


Perceive and Endure

by Oliver__Niko



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, BDSM, BDSM community, Dom Sylvain Jose Gautier, Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Kink Exploration, M/M, References to Depression, Romance, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-07
Updated: 2020-12-07
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:40:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 77,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26338900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oliver__Niko/pseuds/Oliver__Niko
Summary: Felix Hugo Fraldarius, with a heart weighed down by grief and numbness, seeks any means necessary to feel something. Anything. He wants to live in the moment, yet escape it. He wants to be true to himself, whilst simultaneously playing a game of pretend.It's all a burden of conflicting thoughts and emotions never grinding to a halt. He would have never thought he'd learn to embrace himself, let down his persistent walls, through the guidance of a BDSM club's owner.
Relationships: Sylvain Jose Gautier/Felix Hugo Fraldarius
Comments: 176
Kudos: 234





	1. Seeking More

**Author's Note:**

> It's here! As my followers will know, I've been working on this for a few months now and finally get to share it publicly. I've put a lot of heart into this story and I truly do hope you enjoy it.
> 
> Additional warnings for this chapter: Mentions of alcohol, implied homophobia and implied self harm. Unhealthy mindsets to sex are mentioned frequently throughout the story.

A pounding head, nausea in an aching throat. The lingering taste of alcohol. Tiredness, a dull ache all over his body, swollen lips. And, most irritating of all, the stinging of his backside.

Felix Hugo Fraldarius wakes tangled in bed covers and with an instant foul mood. The back of his hand rubs at his forehead whilst he props himself up on his elbow. He can recall all events from the night before and knows he hadn’t drank all that much, so he cannot be hungover. Perhaps stress and depression causes a few drops of alcohol to make him feel this lousy.

His eyes land on a figure in his room; someone who is attempting to throw on a pair of jeans and light a cigarette at the same time.

“Hey,” says Felix. “Don’t do that here, it’s disgusting.”

The man seems to believe Felix had been asleep. His movements stop, gaze brought to Felix. It doesn’t linger for long. “Took you as the kind of guy who smokes.”

“Well, I don’t. And even if I did, I’d do it away from the apartment I rent. Not ruining the damn place.” Felix sits up properly, taking in the guy’s appearance. He’s rather attractive. Tall, dark blond hair, fairly well built. Too bad his personality is nothing to match. This is what Felix managed to gather in their snippet of conversation, at least, before the man’s curiosity on fucking another guy took over, alongside Felix’s desperate need to feel something other than persistent numbness.

Honestly, Felix can hardly remember the man’s name. It might begin with ‘R’. That would hardly be surprising, considering he’s unlucky enough to meet people with names similar to his dead father’s.

The man is at least nice enough to blow the cigarette out and throw it in the bin. He finishes fastening the belt around his hips. “You better not tell anyone about this.”

Felix lets out a laugh. “You shouldn’t be worrying about people judging you for sleeping with a man, and more so me telling them how _terrible_ you are at anal. Going to be a painful day, thanks to you.”

It’s hardly uncommon for a straight man to have a few drinks and sleep with someone they find pretty. Can be internalised homophobia. It’s possibly simple curiosity. Or perhaps he simply saw long hair, managing to convince his drunken mind that it wouldn’t be one-hundred percent gay.

Either way, it sucks to be used in this manner, although Felix will still take it over crying alone.

“Sorry.” That surprises Felix, enough for him to sit up properly. “Never done that with a chick.”

“Well, if you ever do, use more lube. Word of advice.”

The man hums. “I’m going to go. Sorry for, uh …”

“Having a terrible one-night stand with me to forget about all those internal struggles of yours?” Felix waves a hand in the air. “Don’t mention it. This was on me as much as it was you.”

And it was. It’s not as though Felix actually enjoys this. Once he moved past some of his shame and struggles over his preferences in the bedroom, he has liked sex. To a degree, at least. He’s noticed that his sexual attraction is a little different to how others experience it.

Although once he began to survive his days as opposed to living them, all scraps of potential enjoyment left. It now leads to times like the night before. Having a few drinks—despite not even enjoying alcohol all that much either—and finding himself in bed with someone who has done the exact same. Trying to forget whatever troubles the world has forced on them, causing more issues in the process.

The front door shuts after the man, who seems to leave too quickly for him to have stolen anything. Felix makes a mental note to check the place regardless. If the police would even help him, hearing that the culprit is from a one-night stand between two men.

He winces as he swings his feet over the side of the bed. Man, it truly had been awful. Felix’s hands rub over his lower back once he is standing. At least when he removes one to draw back the curtains, the light streaming through the window doesn’t hurt his head all that much.

Although perhaps this says nothing at all when once again, there’s not a single ray of sunshine to be seen.

  
  


* * *

  
  


Despite what any assertiveness may suggest, Felix is far from a people person. There’s a difference between having a mouth on him and being confident around others. He exhales as he stands on the subway, leaning his head back against a pole behind him as he tries to forget where he is.

He’s not sure what it is that makes these crowds so difficult to deal with. It’s especially awful today. All the chatter from those travelling with companions, rustling of newspapers, even those who are silently listening to music the same way as Felix … It’s overwhelming. His eyes close, turning up the volume on his phone to drown it all out.

Today must simply be one of those days. He knows it will be worth it once he sees her face.

He steps off the train the moment it reaches the station. Eyes flicker around the crowds once he passes through the ticket barrier, and he is soon smiling as he sees the head of ginger hair. Fingers take out his earphones, and the world crashes against his senses, although her voice breaks through.

“There you are, Felix!” Annette calls, balancing on her toes to peer above shoulders as she waves.

He sneaks his way around the crowds, holding up a hand when she tries to hug him; it’s too awkward here. “Thanks for waiting.”

“Of course, silly. Mm, I’m so excited!”

The two are grabbing lunch together, with a special blessing the dessert menu. “More excited for that than me?”

“A little. But you’re a close second, promise.” She elbows his side to tell him she’s joking. The moment they step outside, an arm loops around his waist to bring him into a side hug. “So how are you?”

“As good as I can be at the moment. And you?”

“I’m great!” Her smile is sad regardless. “You’re not pushing yourself to be with me today, are you?”

He decides to be honest. “A bit. But I swear I actually mean that. I’ll be better once we sit down and everything.”

“As long as you’re sure,” she says, and he is. He struggles to be around others even more than usual during these dark days, but she is a light among them.

Their desired location is also not too far from the station. Their steps take them to a serene café down a side street, a homely place that feels more alike to visiting friends for food rather than making a purchase; Annette enjoys the food deeply, Felix appreciates the quietness and both are fond of supporting a local business.

 _Even if I’m going to be short on money for a while,_ Felix thinks to himself. Mental gymnastics are quick to occur. Calculating the money left in his general bank account, other expenses he has to pay until he has more coming in and, finally, costly scenarios unlikely to occur in the next two weeks. Because brains are assholes that way.

They sit down, look at a menu, and Annette says, “I’m paying today, so don’t fret.”

Guilt and gratitude find him at once. “You don’t have to.”

“I know, but I want to, so pick whatever you like.”

“I—thanks.” Felix feels his shoulders relax a little. “I’ll pay next time.”

Even if he isn’t sure on when the next time will be. Annette is soon getting up to make their order, returning to the table they have chosen far to the side; the words of other customers don’t fully reach their ears, and here, they are able to peer out of the window.

Not that there is much to look at when rain now pours onto the world below.

“Are you feeling okay?” asks Annette. “I noticed you flinching when you sat down, and you seem really tired.”

Felix has to hold in a laugh, despite how it’s hardly amusing. He’d rather not say it at all, but he’s always honest with her. “Let’s just say that straight men who don’t know what they’re doing are not the best to fool around with.”

A flash of concern on her face. “Felix … I’m not going to judge you for sleeping with anyone. But _please_ be careful about who you’re doing that with.”

“I know. I’ll be getting tested, I promise. And we used protection.”

“Yes, there’s that, and also …” Annette thanks the waiter who places glasses on their table, taking her straw between fingers. “I don’t want anyone taking advantage of you.”

This time, Felix laughs. “Please. I can take care of myself.”

“I’m not doubting that. But there’s people out there who might be stronger than you, and when you’re in that situation … I heard you can just _freeze._ So be careful.”

“I … yeah. I will.” Guilt finds him. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to seem like I was shrugging off your advice.”

“I know that, don’t worry.”

“And I’m hardly ever in that kind of situation. I didn’t say no to him, he just sucked.” Felix takes a sip of water, brow furrowing. “It’s tiresome. I don’t even enjoy this all that much.”

“So why do it?”

There are so many answers to that single question, but he answers with a simple, “Because it lets me feel.”

A silence falls. He hates the pain he has forced onto those kind eyes of hers. Has he not learned by now how much easier it is to hide everything? How much he will cause others to suffer if he opens up to them? And yet he still does this with her, unable to resist the comfort of her cheerful voice, her smiles and reassurance, because there is little else which brings him actual joy these days.

As she appears to take a moment to contemplate her words, a waiter drops by with their food. By the time they have thanked him, picking up their cutlery, Annette has straightened with the clear arrival of what to say.

“You know Mercie, Felix?”

“I’d hope so, when she’s your wife.”

Annette chuckles. “And you obviously know she does a lot of LGBT activism, education and the like. Well, she works with someone on occasion. Sylvain Gautier. He owns a nightclub in the city. Huge place, guy must be loaded …”

“And?” Felix would rather not be reminded of the fact that he isn’t. Not anymore, at least.

“Well, I don’t know much, but … I heard he’s big on sex positivity. Does educational and activism stuff like Mercie, and is a pretty evident figure from what she’s said. I think his club is supposed to be a safe space for that. And I was just thinking, well,” Annette puts down her cutlery to place her hand on top of Felix’s, “if you are going to get involved with people, if that really is something you need to cope right now, then I’d rather you go somewhere safer. Somewhere that is built around that.”

Felix is silent. He cares little about protecting himself and staying safe, when he would rather feel pain than emptiness—something that Annette lectures him on whenever she has the chance. However … Imagining her reaction if he was seriously hurt brings a pang of guilt to his chest. Even if he will not protect himself for his sake, he must at least do so for her.

And the idea of positivity around this piques curiosity. He isn’t accustomed to that prospect. To him, sex is merely there to distract him from his trauma. Never has he laid with anyone who he could feel positively over. They take, take, take, using him for whatever they need, be it to question themselves or to simply pass the time and leave him behind.

Exactly like _they_ did, leaving a hole inside him that he never manages to fill, no matter how desperately he tries.

“If it’s a big place,” he says slowly, “I imagine he has a website.”

Annette’s eyes light up. “Right? I don’t know it, but I’ll ask Mercie to send it to you!”

“Thank you. I might as well look into it.”

“I think it’d be good for you. And this Sylvain guy is meant to really know what he’s doing, so I imagine you’d be in good hands there.”

Felix hums. “We’ll see. I appreciate you wanting to help, Annette.” There’s a slight pause, awkwardness falling on him when he realises how long he has been talking about himself. “That is enough about me, anyway. What about you? How are your singing lessons going?”

“Oh, they’re wonderful! Thank you for encouraging me, last time …”

The ramble of her singing and, somehow, the topic changing to sweets, lasts for most of their meal. Felix is more than happy to listen as he bites into his food. Though his misery cannot fade completely these days, he’s at least in a far brighter place than he had been this morning.

  
  


* * *

  
  


When Felix settles down on his sofa in the evening, television on for background noise above all else, he is reading the message Mercedes has sent him. Kind words as always, a few words on how Sylvain is a trusted companion of hers and, finally, the link to his website.

He messages back a thank you before tapping his fingertip on the link. And … wow, props to whoever this guy hires for design. Sophisticated blacks, whites and reds greet him. He’s not exactly sure what he expected. Perhaps some flashing images and cheesy images of people dancing with others.

There _is_ an image, except it’s of a red-headed man with a determined expression on his face. Felix finds himself swallowing. Handsome features, a line of faint stubble across his cheeks, brown eyes. Although he dresses casually in a leather jacket and T-shirt underneath, there’s a microphone in front of him. And in the bottom right corner, the text: ‘ _Sylvain Jose Gautier, Fhirdiad Pride 2015, advocating as an ally for transgender rights.’_

“That’s what she meant,” Felix murmurs to himself, thinking back to how Annette said this man does similar LGBT activism to Mercedes. He finds himself staring at that photo. The slight arch of Sylvain’s eyebrow, the hand he lifts. This had clearly been an important speech for him. Again, Felix swallows, and he has to urge himself to scroll down and read the introduction typed beneath it.

  
  


_My name is Sylvain Jose Gautier. I’m 30-years-young and, as you would know if you’re on this website at all, I’m the owner of_ Sensations. _I’ve run this club for half a decade already, although sometimes, it feels as though my journey has only just begun._

_Navigating the world of sex as a bisexual man, uncertain of where I could go for my own desires and wishes, was the main motivation I had to create a space for others like me. Anyone is welcomed here, but that motivation remains the same; a space to learn about BDSM …_

  
  


Felix almost chokes on his water. This is something Annette has failed to mention or, quite simply, doesn’t know.

  
  


… _and to find other like-minded individuals. It’s hard to know how to approach the kink community. Unsure of where to find out more, how to meet people, what is safe and what isn’t. This can be even more challenging as a member of the LGBTQ community. And so, whilst anyone can come have a great time, for I assure you that the club isn’t kinky scenes left, right and centre, this is my main focus as a sex positive activist._

_I want to share my experiences and growth, my knowledge, to allow others to feel more comfortable in their skin. Educational workshops are common here. That which caters to the kinky side of things we all know I love and adore, but also other aspects of sex as well. I want to show how beautiful it can be and how important it is to be safe._

_If you feel like you want to know more, feel free to use the tabs to navigate this website. You can find upcoming events I’m both hosting and attending, more information on_ Sensations, _links to close acquaintances I work with, basic information on LGBTQ, sex and kink topics, and … Well, see it for yourself. My friend tells me I need to hurry up and finish this section as I have a maximum of 2,000 characters I can use._

_Much love,_

_Sylvain_

  
  


Felix’s eyes flick through this passage of text multiple times. Not properly reading; simply glazing over the words as he lets them sink in. The idea of the club doesn’t frighten him. If anything, it’s piqued his interest completely. He knows a little about that side of things. He has even had others tie his wrists before and indulged in a little impact play, enjoying it until panic settled in from not being able to trust the person, and he’d be given no aftercare to speak of. But to truly delve in, enough to be in a space that welcomes it …

He’s soon clicking on a page providing more information on the club. Rather than cater purely to fetish alone, as mentioned, Sylvain also focuses on creating a space for sex positivity, including that for LGBTQ people. Nights vary in the club. Generally, the place is more casual, similar to the atmosphere of a usual club. Music, dancing, drinks. Although a note from Sylvain tells readers that there’s a difference in how people there can dress, interact. How you should expect to find members of staff walking around in latex nonetheless.

Sylvain keeps this light-hearted tone in his text, something Felix can appreciate despite how Sylvain is talking about sexual matters. Perhaps this is what it means to view this side of life in a positive light. For it to be healthy, normal, to cater to desires. Felix knows all too well that his own recent approaches to sex have been far from healthy.

Then there are other nights. Actual scenes. Those vary as well, and whilst there are some which beginners will be comfortable sitting by to watch, there are others that may be too intense. It’s always safe. People there to monitor, Sylvain in charge, making sure no one is pushed into anything with others. There to answer questions, uncertainties. Simply ensuring that everyone has an enjoyable and comfortable time.

Felix thinks over his own experiences in clubs. How there’s been nothing to stop hands groping him when he hasn’t even spoken to the person, barely any rules in place for people to be safe. This spikes his curiosity as well. That a world so dark, so misunderstood, seems to care more for trust than those in the light who judge them.

And he won’t deny it. In the gallery attached, featuring photos from the club scene, he can barely bring his eyes away. The lighter snapshots of people in leather and harnesses talking and laughing. Those that are heavier: people in handcuffs, in cages, of fully-fledged scenes.

There’s something intoxicating about the idea of letting yourself go to that extent. Losing the control you so desperately have to grasp onto in life, having a partner you can put all that trust in. Felix doesn’t know how that feels. He doubts he will ever find someone he can lay himself so bare to.

Either way, he finds himself drawn to this place. The sheer positivity of it all, the focus on a safe, inclusive space. He wants to visit for certain and searches for the upcoming events page.

Here, Sylvain lists when there are planned scenes or general kinkier nights. Felix notes how the price is small for the former, and non-existent for the latter. This doesn’t apply to the workshops Sylvain both hosts and is invited to, although even here, it’s reasonable.

 _Suppose owning a night club gets him enough money as it is,_ Felix thinks to himself, although he can acknowledge that this is still thoughtful of Sylvain.

One in particular catches Felix’s eye: an introductory workshop to BDSM etiquette and basics. A tongue licks at his lips in a somewhat nervous manner. He clicks on it regardless.

There is another photo which causes Felix to linger. This time, Sylvain is sitting on a stool as he speaks to rows of others. Still so casual. It’s rather enchanting in its own way, for Sylvain to navigate this world, this education, so naturally and seamlessly.

  
  


_Due to popular demand, I will once again be hosting my introductory workshop into BDSM. This is the perfect class for beginners who want to know more about where to begin. I will talk about what the acronym stands for, why people partake in kink, safety and consent, as well as how you yourself can start delving into it safely._

_As per all my workshops, this will be hosted in_ Sensations, _and attendees must be 18 and over. Limited spaces available, so jump on it!_

  
  


Limited spaces is correct. Although this won’t be hosted for another few weeks yet, a warning that only a few spaces remain has appeared in red text. Felix hovers his mouse over the link to sign-up. The price is decent—as much as it can be, Felix suspects. He simply feels guilty over the thought of spending the money he has left to one side on this, especially when he didn’t buy his and Annette’s lunch today.

However, if she is the one who introduced him to this, and wants him to find a safe space … perhaps it is justified. The club itself is interesting and he would quite like to visit. But there’s a part of him that wants to know more first. Why people are there, what they are after, and why it’s Sylvain’s place of all those around they choose to attend.

He will also admit that he wants to hear the sound of those typed words spoken in real life. He wants to know why he is strangely drawn to not this community alone, but also the man in these photographs.

He has little to lose. Not anymore, when it feels like he’s lost almost everything.

So he does it. He puts his name down for a spot, an email popping through with a reminder on the time and date.

There’s something about that confirmation which tells him he’s moving forward. On this path, he’s going to find something fulfilling, something to take away the numbness that has paralysed him; his magnetic attraction to this man and his aspirations sparks a rare essence of anticipation in Felix’s chest.


	2. Light in the Dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Felix attends Sylvain Gautier's workshop, an introduction to BDSM, and finds himself captivated when learning more about that world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the lovely comments on the first chapter! I hope you continue to enjoy the story and share your thoughts.
> 
> And of course, here is the second chapter.

Felix had many things to be excited over as a child. He remembers how he would sometimes stare out of the classroom window and think of his brother. The two would meet after school, Glenn walking Felix home. _You should make more friends,_ Glenn said to him frequently.

Felix did have friends. Many girls especially fawned over his sensitivity and chin-length, dark hair. They would enjoy brushing through it and pleaded with him to grow it more so they could style it properly. As nine-year-olds with the ability to dream, they’d gush over how cool it would be if they became models together. Months later, or sometimes even weeks, a new dream for them would come along, although they’d still appreciate the little boy in their class different from the rest.

The only dreams Felix cared about were those involving his brother. This is what excited him more than anything. He anticipated those walks home as though they were whole adventures; _actual_ adventures, meanwhile, made his heart soar higher than ever. His father had been precious to him, too. With the loss of his mother so young, Felix only truly remembers the memories he has of these two, but would never change it for anything.

It was a joyful life to lead. Even as years passed, and Glenn had to work as an adult, Felix would look forward to the days they’d see each other.

Until those days ceased. Until the light flickering inside him almost disappeared, and the tiniest, most fragile flame amongst endless darkness keeps him alive.

Is it surprising, in this case, that he has chosen unhealthy habits as an alternative to closing the book on his own life? No longer fuelled by excitement, by the thrill of what comes next. There are little things that keep him surviving each day, other than the friends he cares for deeply. But even with them, he’s frightened. Frightened to get close enough for fate to laugh in his face and take them away.

Living numbly, without any purpose but the sheer guilt he would feel over giving up, first became his norm all those years ago; as soon as he would no longer see _him_ as well, it only intensified further.

This is why he’s surprised to find hope in such a strange place. Within those determined brown eyes found in that photograph of Sylvain Jose Gautier, and the hands that have created an entire world for himself.

Can it even be called hope? Felix knows little on what awaits him down this road. It could simply be that he attends this workshop, discovers full BDSM is not for him at all and never looks back on this again. But this outcome doesn’t seem to be a possibility for him. He cannot say why. Intuition, one might believe, or perhaps sheer curiosity bringing about more.

He doesn’t know. But either way, for once, he’s got something to set his eyes on. Something that isn’t one of his methods of surviving each day.

It isn’t living. Far from it. However, the mere act of looking forward to something reminds him of those days in his childhood, those hugs from his brother when the two met after the school day, and that in itself tells him he is doing something right.

  
  


* * *

  
  


The warmer days become, the more the city’s streets grow crowded. Some people simply _do not_ know how to walk around busy city pathways. The continent of Fódlan, at least, seems to be home to men of a high average height; Felix manages to weave through the gaps of tall businessmen who seem hell-bent on taking up as much space as possible.

He takes his phone out from his pocket when it vibrates. A smile as he reads the name.

  
  


**Annie 🎂**

_Good luck today! I hope that it helps you in some way, you’ve got this. Sending all my hugs_ _೭੧_ _(❛▿❛✿)_ _੭೨_

  
  


Felix telling Annette what else Sylvain does had been an amusing conversation to bring up, as expected.

“ _Oh, really? Ha! Silly me,”_ she had said when Felix told her it is, in fact, a BDSM club. “ _Saying that, I’m not really surprised. Mercie told me that Sylvain is a big figure in a few spaces! Popular LGBT activist, does sex education in schools, teaches about … well, kinky stuff. He’s kinda famous in that local community. He does everything!”_

“ _So you’re not judging me on how that hasn’t scared me away?”_

“ _What would be scarier if I was in your place? Potentially getting myself hurt by those who don’t know what they’re doing, or being taught by someone who’s an expert in all this stuff and visiting a place that’s made to be safe?”_

Although Annette isn’t the type of person to go into this kind of life herself, he can still agree with this sentiment. Her wish to support him, not forcing him away from anything and simply telling him to be safe instead, is exactly like her. He should know that she isn’t someone who will judge him.

He glances at his phone once again, bringing up Google Maps. _Should be on the street corner._

Though he has seen photos, those impressing him enough as it is, he’s not sure he is quite prepared enough for the sheer size of this building. He knows a brief overview of the story. Sylvain previously owned a smaller place, already supported from how much of a respected Dominant he became in the local community, before he relocated somewhere larger with both the money he earned himself and that which he inherited.

And large it is. Huge, even. A number of floors he’d rather not count—Felix has read about how Sylvain rents rooms for meetings and similar, as well as those for couples. He personally lives in the higher grounds. Still … Felix thinks about himself, currently jobless and living in a small apartment that won’t even allow him a cat, and realises how life’s lottery of success didn’t quite treat him the same.

He’s trying not to be bitter, or intimidated, as he walks up towards the building. Double glass doors stand in front of him. He enters, a surprisingly classy hallway greeting him. Hell, even a chandelier hangs above his head, and the heels of his boots click against a marble floor. Honestly. He questioned at first if dressing in some of the smartest, yet casual, items of clothing was a bit too much. Now he’s glad he doesn’t feel more out of place than he does already.

“Rented a room, huh? Pass through the door on the left there. You can go confirm your arrival and receive directions on where to go.”

A blonde woman is speaking to a couple on one side. Dressed fully in black, hair pinned to the back of her head and a wire trailing down from her ear, Felix knows instantly she is a member of security. He assumes she’d be standing outside if this was night-time.

“What brings you … Felix?”

Felix blinks as he looks at the woman’s face. Turquoise eyes meet his, and the realisation hits instantly.

“Ingrid?” he says. A smile breaks out. “I’ve not seen you since—it’s been a long time. I’ve missed you.”

She too is smiling, the friendliness an amusing sight compared to the outfit she wears. “Right? Meeting again here, of all places … Sure has been years.”

“You work as security here? You did always say you’d like a job that gets you on your feet.”

“That’s right. I’ve done it for years, although I’ve only worked here for eight months. I met Sylvain at an LGBT rally that I attended with my friend Dorothea, and somehow ended up here.” She holds up a finger as her other hand reaches her ear. “Galatea. Great to know, I’ll be there shortly. Out.”

“This gig really suits you,” Felix says as her hand lowers. He earns a laugh.

“Right? I do enjoy my work. What do you do now?” Her brow furrows. “I heard about your father. I’m sorry that I haven’t been in touch, I didn’t know how to contact you.”

“No worries at all.” The smile he gives is forced, and he hopes she understands that this means he’d rather not talk about it. She does, giving a nod.

“Oh, excuse me, I didn’t ask what you’re here for.”

“Uh, yeah, I …” He tries to swallow his awkwardness by remembering she is likely accustomed to talk like this. “I’m here for the workshop being hosted today.”

As expected, or at least hoped, she merely nods as normal. “Sure thing. Workshops are held up on the first floor; this one is in room seven. Need someone to escort you?”

“No, I think I’m good. But thanks.”

Ingrid nods. “The elevator is over there. If you find me when I’m off duty, I’ll give you my number.”

His smile returns. “Sure thing.”

It truly is a small world, he thinks to himself as he heads to the elevator she has pointed to.

  
  


* * *

  
  


There is already a fair number of other attendees in room seven. Chairs have been lined across the crimson floor; white walls, with a singular black, seem to make it even bigger than it is. Some people are in duos or trios, others sit alone. Felix nods a little awkwardly to someone who nods to him first. It might be an invitation to sit with him. Felix sits on the opposite side in a chair by the window.

Even on a lower floor, there’s still a spectacular view of the city. He exhales and forces his anxiety to calm a little. He’s not exactly sure _why_ he is anxious. Perhaps the fear of the unknown, or simply that he struggles adjusting to vast amounts of company. More people have filtered through the door.

Their chatter is tantamount to flies buzzing in his ears, and he tries to not acknowledge it as he stares out of the window. Luckily, those who sit to his side are a giggling trio of friends who don’t pay him much mind. He blocks that out too, wondering if he really wants to be here, until …

“Thanks for waiting!”

A different voice breaks through. Clearer, a magnet for Felix’s eyes. He turns his head at last and finds the man who entered.

It’s not difficult to. The head of bright hair is practically a beacon sitting atop a tall, broad figure. It’s his aura most of all, however, that fixes Felix’s gaze on him. Confidence, a sense of belonging here, enough to quieten the room in an instant. That is to be expected when he’s the one hosting this workshop, although there’s something different there as well.

Felix doesn’t know what. The only thing he _does_ know is that even from this short distance, he’s captivated by the man that is Sylvain Jose Gautier, and is as such by a mere few words.

“Glad to see that the turnaround is pretty big today,” Sylvain continues as he steps in a clearer area in front of the chairs. Similar to his appearance on the website, he’s flawlessly casual in a leather jacket; deep red this time, however. Felix imagines he owns at least ten. “It’s always great to see people’s desire to learn, and trust me to be the one teaching them. Oh, and I haven’t even introduced myself! Sylvain Gautier, I’m the owner of this establishment.”

_We obviously know that,_ Felix thinks to himself, leaning back with the slightest smirk on his face. He can’t blame the man for being proud to say that statement. In fact, with how much money Sylvain should have, Felix is surprised he’s not gloating in it more than this.

“No matter how you came to know about this workshop or how much you wish to learn, you’re most welcomed here. I want to emphasise that you can ask as many questions as you’d so like to during this. So!” Sylvain’s hands clap together. “Cutting right to the chase. BDSM is something that has grown in popularity over recent years. Famous people wearing gear as a fashion statement, television shows and, probably the biggest influence of all, _Fifty Shades of Gray._ Granted, we don’t teach you how to abuse others, here.”

The bluntness earns a few murmurs, exchanged glances, smiles as well. Felix’s own head rises that little more. The seriousness of Sylvain’s voice with those last words—it’s already easy to tell he practices what he preaches.

“So, BDSM. Bondage and discipline, dominance and submission, sadism and masochism. Some people question why the hell people would want this in the bedroom. They think that it’s abusive. And, without the proper care and knowledge, it can be. That’s why I run workshops like this. To spread awareness, understanding, and to make sure people know what they’re doing when they go down that route.”

Sylvain’s eyes fall on a man and woman to the side. With an exchange of smiles, they begin to walk around with a pile of leaflets in their hands, handing one to each guest. “This is just a summary of what we’re going to be talking about. It’ll help you get a refresher later on if you need it.”

A leaflet is soon held out to Felix, and he takes it. He’s unable to take his eyes away from the page he flicks to at random: sadomasochism, specifically. His gaze only returns to Sylvain when he speaks again.

“So, back to that last question. Why _do_ people do this? There’s not really one answer. However, most people will have the same basis for their answer. It is escapism for a lot of us. Having a certain role to play—be it in the bedroom alone, or if you fall into a lifestyle with your partner and are active in the community—is often a perfect way to de-stress from your day-to-day life. Dominants get off on the submission given to them, they enjoy having someone’s safety in their hands and love to see their submissive enjoying themselves. That’s one thing that many often don’t understand. Even with a power dynamic in play, there’s still equality. You do this because you _both_ want to and are consenting to each other.

“That leads to submissives. They enjoy the thrill of letting someone else take control, finding that the submission helps them to let themselves go, be present and focus only on perceiving what is done to them,” Felix sits up that little straighter, “and finds it to be freedom in itself, despite often being bound during that. All in all, what this builds on is trust, regardless if you partake in BDSM sexually or not. It takes a great deal of communication and understanding each other. People away from the community often don’t realise how deep bonds can become through said understanding.”

“How do you have that communication?” a female voice asks. “Uh, sorry for interrupting.”

Sylvain smiles, shaking his head. “Questions are welcome any time, and I’d have covered this anyway as I talk about _how_ to get into all this. If it’s in the sense that you want to bring it up to a partner you haven’t met through the community, I’d say just do it. It might seem awkward, but if you love each other, your partner will likely be open to trying something new. Simply ensure that you link them to reliable sources if they need them. I have a number on my website.

“It’s also likely you’ll both enjoy at least some aspect; many people engage in even light BDSM at some point in their lives. You talk, and you do as much research as possible. Sometimes it’s best to try things out in a non-sexual situation. It’s a good way to stop any possible panic and have a basic idea on limits, specifically when it comes to pain. Sometimes, you might even spend years researching if you come into this blind.”

Sylvain wanders over to the side, picking up a hefty bag left on the floor. He places it down on a table. “I can’t emphasise how important it is to talk through everything either way. I’ll be mentioning this several times through these couple of hours. You must talk about likes and dislikes, what you want from each other and what aspects of kink are a complete no for you. Although on that note: if no during sex actually means yes, stop means keep going—that’s where a safe word would especially come in.”

“To tell someone if they need to stop?” someone asks. Sylvain nods.

“Precisely. The idea of a safe word is that if it’s used, everything stops. If someone is restrained, they’re released ASAP, even if it means cutting the ropes. Using a word that isn’t going to pop up in your scenario is important. Some beginners like to use a traffic light system. Green meaning to keep going, amber to slow it down, red to stop completely. Whatever you use is up to you, but it _must_ be there. And if someone is gagged: hand signals, blinking, grunts. Anything that works with your current situation.

“So then,” says Sylvain, unzipping the bag he’s placed onto the table. “Shall I sum up what it means to be a Dom? You scare the shit out of someone, only it’s in a totally sexy, trusting way, and they love it.”

He tips the bag upside down to spill the contents. Restraints, tools for spanking, toys—just to name a few of what Felix can spot. He cannot be the only one feeling flushed by simply glancing at them, can he? His eyes avert to the side. No, there are others who are reacting similarly too. Nerves. Uncertainty. And, in many, curiosity, the slightest smile through these nerves.

“Don’t get your hopes up. There’s no audience participation.” Laughter ripples across the room. Sylvain grins, scooping up a pair of handcuffs with his finger and spinning them around. “Impact play, so bondage and inflicting pain, is the foundation of BDSM. I’m going to be talking more about that rather than sub-categories. Spanking is like an entry into that world. Starting off gently is important. If you’re the one getting spanked, be honest and vocal about what you can handle. If you’re doing the spanking, listen. You can be hot while still looking out for them. Best to cup your hand, and go _below_ what their limits are. Work your way up over time. With BDSM, impact play often seems scarier and more painful than it is in reality.

“Then, flogging,” the handcuffs in Sylvain’s hand are replaced by this very flogger, crimson red, “is often what comes after. Keep to the backside, avoid the kidneys, and don’t go too far down.” He lifts the flogger, slapping it down against the desk. The noise startles a number of people in the room—including Felix—although laughter soon follows. “It’s meant to be painful, but if you build your way up, if you do it right, that pain will cause them pleasure as well. Three to four minutes ought to do it, unless they want more, and they’re being a pain in the ass. No pun intended.”

More laughter, and this time, Felix releases his own. Sylvain has the kind of humour and casual education that puts everyone at ease. It’s exactly how one would picture him to be when reading the information on his website. That personality coming to life—a man who is an expert in what he talks about, passionate about safe enjoyment for others, all the while treating it in a light-hearted way.

It’s not common in Felix’s life that he can remain focused on something. He simply has too many thoughts to ever think entirely on a single thing; even when he is busy, there are still several worries nagging at the back of his mind.

Listening to this man is different. He hangs onto each word, watches every hand movement, every smile on that face. And the words reach deep inside him. A spark inside, something which has always existed, but now with the potential to grow greater. There’s something fascinating about what he hears. Intoxicating. A desire to learn more, to perhaps experience himself, specifically by hands as trustworthy as Sylvain’s.

Which surprises him, when he is as snappy as he is and often assertive in his day-to-day life. But as Sylvain himself mentions, one’s desires in the bedroom, the persona and mindset they base themselves in, can be entirely different. This world is escapism. A potential comfort to everyone involved.

There’s still shame in Felix, however, when he glances at the restraints on that table and pictures himself inside them.

  
  


* * *

  
  


The two hours pass by quickly. Lots of laughter, more questions asked as people grow more comfortable to do so. People are lingering now it’s over, no rush on them to leave. They happily finish off refreshments as they talk among themselves. The almost tense atmosphere from the beginning has long since vanished.

Felix hovers himself, trying to find where to put the used paper cup in his hands. A voice from behind him says, “Right over there.”

The fact that it’s Sylvain himself speaking startles him. Felix nods slowly at the man looking at him, wandering over to the side where Sylvain is pointing. He tosses the paper cup in a recycling bin. Suddenly awkward at the prospect of conversation, Felix makes it his mission to leave, although his movements are still slow. Almost as though his subconscious wants him to linger.

And when he does so, Sylvain speaks again. To him. “I’ve not seen you around here before.”

“No,” Felix answers. “Probably wouldn’t have.”

A smile. Goddess. Felix shouldn’t find it this attractive. “Piques my interest when that happens. A lot of people visit the club first, you see? Then decide they want to learn more. But I’d have remembered seeing you.”

“Is that a compliment?”

“If you want it to be.” This time, a wink, followed by a chuckle from Sylvain. “Hopefully you learned something here today. What’s your name?”

“Felix. Felix Fraldarius.”

“Sylvain Gautier.” Sylvain holds out his hand. Felix takes it, strangely charmed by how Sylvain is modest enough to re-introduce himself when in a one-to-one conversation, despite how everyone here knows that name already. “Hmm … Felix? Why is that—oh! Are you _Felix_ Felix?”

Felix’s head tilts slightly. “Uh, what are you on about?”

“Mercedes told me that someone called Felix was going to attend. She said her wife is best friends with you.” The grin on Sylvain’s face reaches his eyes. “Thought someone with that cute of a name would have a cute face to match. I was right.”

Felix’s mouth hangs open, but he manages to recover. “And I was right about you likely being a flirty asshole.”

Sylvain laughs. As genuine as that smile, and Felix cannot help but smile as well. “It’s all in good fun, and I’d stop if it made anyone uncomfortable. Thank you for attending today.”

“It did teach a lot, to answer your previous question. Even while I knew some of it already,” says Felix. “You can tell you know your stuff.”

“Yeah, I was doing all this research myself all those years ago. Lots of experience, otherwise I wouldn’t talk about it. Do you reckon you’ll want to attend the next one? I’ll be talking about how to settle into BDSM as a lifestyle.”

Felix hums. “I mean, I think I’d like to, but … Not exactly swimming in cash at the moment.”

“Ah, sorry to hear. I mostly charge what I need to pay for in admin, those who help out, refreshments, all that kind of stuff. Otherwise I’d offer it for free.” Sylvain scratches the back of his head.

“Wasn’t trying to make you feel guilty. You have education in psychology and everything, don’t you? Wouldn’t expect it to be free. You already make it cheap with everything considered.” Which makes Felix feel even more lousy about how he can’t exactly afford it. The money is there; it’s how he’d benefit from saving as much of it as possible that makes this a struggle. He needs to make sure he has it backed up for him, in case anything were to happen.

Besides, complicated matters in his life stop him from wanting to spend it at all.

Sylvain hums. “Still. Listen, are you interested in checking out the nightlife here? Free entry like any pub, despite how it’s a luxury club and all.”

“I suppose so. Why do you ask?”

“I hang around most nights. I perform sometimes, like to talk with people, partake in scenes when we have them. If you were to have any questions, I’d happily answer them there.”

The pause is only for Felix to not seem as though he’s jumping on answering. After all, there’s no question about this; he doesn’t want to leave all this without experiencing more. “Sure. I’ll see about popping around sometime this week.”

“Awesome! I’ll see you there. At night, we have another entrance open that takes you straight to the club. Go through there, and if you don’t see me around, tell the bartender your name. I’ll make sure that they know I’m expecting you.” Sylvain’s eyes flicker to his side, letting out a sigh when he sees the equipment—which he rifled through to use as examples throughout the presentation—is still left out on the table. “Oh. Forgot I haven’t cleaned that up.”

“Right.” Felix’s eyes flicker over it all once again. He swallows, cursing himself by how he feels a little heat rise in his face. This doesn’t go unnoticed by Sylvain, who has a slight smirk as he begins to put the equipment away. “Yeah. Anyway, I should get going. Got some stuff to take care of.”

“I’ll be seeing you, Felix.” Sylvain straightens back up, his smirk softened into a proper smile. “It was nice to meet you.”

“You too.” Despite the monotone voice, he means it.

Sylvain’s face, his voice, remains with Felix as he heads out of the building. He exhales deeply once back in the outside air. He’s certainly captivated. Even he cannot deny it.

With that world, with desires some might deem as peculiar. The thought of returning brings him more fulfilment than what he has had before—a strange necessity to ensure he sees those piercing brown eyes again weighs on his chest. 


	3. Guilt and Conscience

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The past always lingers behind Felix, but he's still trying to put his foot forward.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the support as always, it's much appreciated! I hope you enjoy the chapter.
> 
> Additional warnings: implied & attempted sexual assault (second scene; can be skipped if it's needed), non-excessive drinking.

Loving arms wrap around his body, squeezing gently. A chin rests on top of Felix’s head as he leans his face against their shoulder. The ponytail falling over it tickles his face.

“ _It’d be nice to stay here forever.”_

Felix hums in response. Dazed, trying to forget how none of this is real, to lose himself in the blurred images of dreams. It will never be real again, not in reality. This is the only place that will grant him freedom; he cannot feel positive emotions anywhere else.

He doesn’t say his brother’s name in fear of breaking the spell. But he thinks of it. That is enough for it to change everything, for the world around them to darken, their matching pale skin the sole source of illumination.

“ _But it can’t be that way, can it? Not when I left_ _you_ _. Not when it’s your fault that father did as well.”_

“Stop.”

“ _It’s all your fault, Felix. You don’t have any right to be depressed. Not when all of this weighs on your shoulders.”_

“I didn’t—”

“ _But you did, didn’t you? It’s all your fault.”_

“Please, Glenn, don’t. Don’t say this, it’s not you, you would never …”

Felix blinks, realising he is now alone, cold without those arms embracing him. Shaking legs bring him to his feet. He sways, not feeling here, or anywhere—in this moment, as the never-ending darkness spins around him, as he tries to release every single thought and emotion, he might not even exist.

His vision grows clearer. He notices something on the ground some distance away. Incoherent whispers follow him as he edges closer, closer. His entire body freezes when he realises it’s the body of his father.

Lucid dreaming allows him to force himself out of slumber; he sits bolt upright with a huge gasp. Beads of sweat cling to his face. He pants, chest heaving, hands reaching for his head with his knees brought up to himself.

“I’m sorry,” is his whisper. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

Those fingers grasp onto his hair. Pain sears through his scalp as he buries his face in his knees. Still unable to catch a single breath, entire body trembling, and he hates himself for every bit of it.

He spends every waking day with a desire to feel something. The moment he does, however, all it does is hurt.

_I have no right to hurt, to be in pain, when they aren’t even alive anymore._

Even so, deprecating words cannot prevent reality. They cannot prevent how he’s screaming in his mind. How even though his eyes are dry, his throat still aches with the desire to cry for once, the same way he did as a child. His heart pounds painfully in a fragile chest.

He doesn’t fully acknowledge getting to his feet. Needing to move, unable to remain still. He scoops up his phone from the night-stand. One-twenty in the morning and a text message from half an hour ago.

  
  


_Hey, it’s been a while. Know it’s late. Just can’t sleep from how horny I am, you know how it is ;) You should come over if you’re awake too. One of the best I’ve had_

  
  


He’s not the first to say it. Won’t be the last. Nor does it mean that Felix himself is different, possessing unique charm, nothing that anyone else has. No one cares about that. They find him fun to fuck in bed, and that’s all there is to it.

Selfish desire. Putting him in their own box, only seeing what they want to see. Caring little for what Felix wants in return. Although perhaps it doesn’t matter regardless. Not when Felix wants little but to forget, to feel, not deriving pleasure or enjoyment despite what one may believe.

 _Sure,_ is what he says, because those warm arms need to be replaced with those that are less loving, and the words replaying in his mind need to disappear.

It’s always numbness he has to be rid of, or intense emotions he cannot bear. There’s no in between in his world. Nothing but pain and emptiness.

  
  


* * *

  
  


The steps are as simple as one, two, three. Not everyone who chooses to sleep around does so without caring for others. Laughter, enjoyable conversation and perhaps even watching television or playing video games, too. Sex can be healthy and mean something. Felix only knows that in theory.

When lips are against his own and hands grasp at his body, it doesn’t have purpose. Felix’s mind thinks of little but how he wishes for it to do something for _once._ When he’s pushed onto the bed and his trousers are tugged down, all he thinks is, _please, let it help me forget this time. I don’t have anything else._

Nothing to offer, nothing to love. Not anymore.

“You’re so hot,” this man says, as though that means anything. “Fuck, why’d you play so hard to get all this time?”

He hasn’t. Not really. And it’s not as though he enjoys passing from one person to another, either. Words of pointless praise, hands which desire nothing but to fuel hunger … There’s only so much of that he can take from a single person.

Although it’s difficult to tell what’s worse. The consistent use from this one person, or knowing that everyone is the same. How they prey on those who need this to fight numbness.

Little communication means the man doesn’t understand how tense Felix is. How it’s too much, too soon as fingers enter him. It hurts, but not so much that he can’t close his eyes and let it help him forget. In fact, he welcomes it, because he’d rather feel pain than nothing at all.

That’s when it hits him. What is he doing here, and why is he bothering? He remembers the words Sylvain had said. Trust, communication, having sex to _enjoy_ one’s self. How that is the way it’s supposed to be.

And the pain that those hands cause is so controlled, careful, meaningful. It’s for both of them. This should be a two-way street, not one having a blast as the other wonders if they might finally cry this time.

When the man’s fingers pull out and he’s fumbling to prepare his erection as well, Felix is grasping onto his arm to stop him.

“Wait,” he says.

“What for? Come on, haven’t even got to the best part.” A hand on Felix’s wrist pulls his hand back, pushing down onto his chest to keep him there. “Want to feel you around my cock.”

“I don’t want it. Let go.”

“You’re just gonna lead me on like that?” The man’s head leans down, Felix able to smell the scent of alcohol on his breath. Felix pushes the man back with firm hands against his shoulders, swinging his legs over the side of the bed.

“Deal with it. A no is a no regardless of when I say it, asshole.”

Felix inhales sharply as a hand grasps at his wrist. “C’mon, you’re a little slut, aren’t you? Just playing hard to get again?” The grip tightens. “Not letting you go before I get what I—”

 _Smack._ Felix’s spare fist collides with the side of the man’s face. He takes the time the man needs to adjust, eyes blinking in shock, to pull up his trousers and underwear.

“ _Fucking piece of shit!_ I’m bleeding!”

“Good for—”

He’s not prepared for the hands that push him into the wall. The side of his head bashes against it, bringing stars to his eyes. He balances himself with a hand on the wall, trying to focus his vision, mentally preparing himself for what he knows can happen next.

It appears as though life, however, has decided it’s been toying with him enough for now. The man is staring with guilt in his eyes. Sobering up in an instant, it seems.

“Shit,” he says. “Sorry, I—”

“If alcohol is going to make you act this way, don’t drink it at all.” Felix scoops up a jacket off the floor. His head spins as he does so; a nasty bruise will be on his face by the morning. “I’m out, and I’m blocking you.”

No other words are given to him. Still, as Felix heads out the apartment and shuts the door behind him, he’s thankful that this is someone who has never been to his own home in return.

He breathes out in relief as the night air hits him. In this moment, his heart still racing, he can begin to accept how destructive it is to let this happen time and time again. Annette warns him enough, telling him to be safe, and that’s why he decided to go to that workshop at all.

He lifts his head to the sky. Looks like he’ll be making that visit for certain. But for now, he needs to risk sleeping again, mental and physical exhaustion alike creeping up on him, as well as what he imagines will be yet another migraine.

  
  


* * *

  
  


Felix is dressing for this very occasion two days later. There is somewhat of a pressure to look decent once again, and he’s certain that everyone else there will be far richer. He has considered inviting a friend along, but the thought is quick to be cast aside. This part of him is something he keeps away from their worlds.

His phone is on the bathroom windowsill, from which Annette is on speaker.

“ _So then—wait for it—the guy asks if the Valentines’ specials are on! At the end of March! He said he knew they lasted until the end of February, but I was like … Dude. It’s not even February anymore.”_

“Suppose it’s easy to not feel scatterbrained anymore, when listening to that,” Felix says, taking a razor away from his now cleanly shaven face.

“ _Right? Suddenly, I feel like I’m completely owning life. At least I’m not thinking it’s the wrong month. Ooh, but you know, you’ll have to try some unique biscuits we have in now.”_

“You know I don’t like sweets much.”

“ _But they have a little spice, too. I reckon you’d like them!”_

“Fine. I’ll give them a go.” Felix runs moisturiser down his face. “What are you getting up to tonight, then?”

“ _Mercedes and I are going to watch_ The Hunger Games. _I prefer the books, but the movies are still so fun to binge.”_

“Ah, a classic. Have fun.”

“ _Thanks! You’re off to that club tonight, aren’t you?”_

“That I am. Getting ready as we speak.” His fingers trace over the bruise on the side of his face. He questions it for a moment, before reaching to some concealer left to one side. Annette is somehow able to sense that touch.

“ _You okay to be going out after the other night? I mean, I’m happy for you to go to a safer place, but … You know, just don’t want you taking too much on.”_

“You worry too much. It was barely anything.”

“ _Felix, he hurt you.”_

“Only because I punched him first.”

“ _Yes, because he tried pushing you into—you know! Felix … you worry me sometimes.”_ There’s a small pause. “ _It’s like you don’t want to admit when something hurts. That maybe you think you … I don’t know.”_

“Deserve it?” Felix blends the concealer into his skin. It doesn’t do all that much to cover the bruise, but at least makes it look fainter than before. “It’s not like that. It just feels like nothing compared to everything else, that’s all.”

Annette hums. Felix can tell she doesn’t fully believe him; he feels guilty when he realises she has every reason to.“ _It’s still okay to be affected by it. Be careful tonight, okay?”_

“I will, don’t worry.” His voice has finally softened, guilt deepening. “I only want to go there to see what it’s like, talk to Sylvain a bit, I guess. That’s all.”

“ _Good. I care about you, you know. Never want you to get hurt!”_

“You too, Annie. I’m finishing up here, so why not go start your movie night?”

“ _Will do. Don’t just be careful, and have fun too! Talk to you later, Fe.”_

The call ends. Felix brings his attention to his loose hair, reaching down to his ribcage. He takes a few strands between his fingers and twists them. With a shake of his head, he begins to brush through it into his signature ponytail.

He’s soon making his way through the streets. A little early, just an hour after the club opens. If it turns out he hates the experience, he can head back home and slide into bed at a reasonable time. The prospect of seeing the club at night is intriguing. He imagines it looks completely different than when he saw it during the day.

And it does. He wonders how he hasn’t ever marvelled at those beautiful lights, shining silver in the darkness. Other buildings line this street, them too lighting the night, but none do so in quite the same way.

There’s a queue to be let in. He’s rather self-conscious about being alone. If there are any judging eyes, however, he can simply hope that they will later see him with the club’s owner. Not that these seem to be the type to judge, with several in alternative fashion, others with coats wrapped around bodies donned in latex, drag queens—there is a number of ‘ordinary’ people as well, but though he tries not to stare, the variety of those here is entertaining enough for his glances to occupy him until he reaches the door.

“Felix!” Anxiety lessens when he finds the familiar blonde hair belonging to Ingrid, on duty with two other members of security. “Nice to see you. As per protocol though, I’m going to have to see some ID. Need it from anyone who looks under twenty-five to prove they’re over eighteen.”

“I take it as a compliment,” he says, reaching into the pocket of skinny jeans. He hands it to her.

“Yep, you’re good to go.” She smiles when giving the driver’s licence back to him. “Didn’t end up seeing you after the workshop. Get my number off Sylvain, all right? It’d … it’d be nice to catch up.”

“Yeah.” His voice is slightly quiet. “It would.”

Her smile grows that little more, although she shares some of the same sadness in her eyes.

Inside is a set of stairs with an elevator to the side. He climbs the former, slight vibrations under his feet from faraway music. The farther he ascends, the more he can hear it. He passes through a doorway, leading to a balcony overlooking the club.

It’s unlike any other he has been in. Luxury is an understatement. Spotlights line the ceiling, a gorgeous hue cast down onto sofas and tables below. A dancefloor is to one side, stage overlooking it. There is a piano nearby that is currently unoccupied. Descending the stairs on this side leads you to a vast bar; there is another higher floor on the opposite side.

He passes by a small seating area to make his way down the stairs. His hand rests on a mahogany banister as he observes the world below. A waitress is walking by with drinks balanced on a tray, donned in a corset and leather miniskirt. A number of people surround her. Laughing, chatting. Completely free.

A couple of smiles are given to him once he reaches the ground. One woman glances him up and down. His own eyes search the room, trying to spot that familiar head of red hair, although it’s difficult to find even him amongst all these people. It’s rather overwhelming, despite how much he has tried to push himself over the last several years to grow used to sounds and busy places, but he can manage it today.

“Excuse me,” Felix says to a bartender. “Is Sylvain Gautier here? I’m Felix Fraldarius—he said he’d mention me to you?”

“Ah, yeah, he did mention a Felix.” The man points with his left arm. “Last time I saw him, he was over there, sitting with a few people.”

“Thanks." A smile is given to Felix before the bartender tends to a customer. Felix sneaks his way through the crowds in the direction he has been pointed to.

Perhaps his wonder at the club is what made him somehow miss Sylvain. Still, it’s surprising when the man seems so in the spotlight. Sitting on one of the long leather sofas, one arm resting against it as his other hand balances a glass of whiskey on his lap. He manages to stand out even whilst dressing more casually than his staff. Black jeans, and a blood-red shirt unbuttoned enough to reveal his chest and a peek of his abs.

A woman’s finger is circling over that precise area. Felix cannot blame her.

“I always wanted a puppy,” says Sylvain, far from the conversation Felix expected to hear. “A German Shepherd, maybe. Or a Labrador! A big dog would have been lovely. But my parents didn’t want pets. And now I live here …”

“You own the place,” says a woman with long brunette hair, resting her face in her hand. “Surely you could let yourself have a pet if you wanted?”

“Oh, of course. But it’s the environment, you know. Not really ideal when I live so high up. You know me though, Dorothea. I can have pets in other ways.”

Dorothea rolls her eyes, nudging Sylvain with her foot. Her eyes drift over to Felix. Sylvain’s own gaze follows, and his smile grows.

“Oh, Felix!” Sylvain downs the rest of his drink, glass placed onto the table. He pats the legs of Dorothea and a man sitting on the other side of him as he gets to his feet. “Happy you could make it!”

“Sorry to tear you away from your harem,” says Felix. The several people Sylvain have left behind begin chatting with each other instead, scooting closer now there is extra space. Sylvain roars with laughter.

“Harem! Don’t hear that much … Nah, they’re just friends. Although I have slept with a few.” Sylvain gestures towards the bar. “I see you’re without a drink. Want me to get you one?”

“Oh, sure. But I don’t really like anything heavy.”

“No worries, do you like mint?” Felix nods. “In that case—hey, Claude! Can I get a minty mojito over here?”

The bartender who Felix previously spoke to gives a thumbs up. “Give me a couple of minutes.”

“Awesome.” Sylvain leans against the bar, smiling at Felix. “So, what do you think?”

“It’s pretty impressive, got to say.”

“Right? You’ve come on a pretty chill night. Nothing too crazy going on. Although over there …” Sylvain gestures his head towards a couple down the bar. A woman is leaning towards her girlfriend, hand grasping at her thigh with nails digging into the skin, murmurs in her ear. “Yeah, something’s definitely going on.”

“That’s hardly uncommon in the places I usually visit,” says Felix. “Although I suppose in a place like this, I’m left wondering who is going to have some crazy shit going on once they get home.”

“And I doubt people wear collars so much where you go.”

Felix flickers his gaze back over. The woman who licks her lips as she glances down at the bar does, in fact, wear one. “No, not really.”

“Precisely. Although like I’ve said, not everyone who comes here is into it fully. People can just have fun, and it’s often those who feel like outcasts elsewhere.”

“I know the feeling,” says Felix. Sylvain hums, fixing his gaze on Felix properly. The smile on his face fades.

“Are you all right?”

“Huh?”

“There. On your face.” Sylvain’s finger taps against the side of his own. Felix presses his fingers against his cheek, pain beneath them.

“Oh. Yeah, it’s cool.”

“Looks like you’ve covered it up a bit. It had me worried.”

“It was an accident with someone I was sleeping with on occasion. Not going to be seeing him again. Ah, thanks,” Felix adds as a glass is slid across the bar towards him. Mint leaves poke out from the ice. “You’re nosey.”

“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be, I’ve just seen a lot of it in my time.” Sylvain straightens up. “I’m glad you won’t be seeing him again. You’re staying safe out there, right?”

 _If I was safe, do you think I’d have a bruise at all?_ “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Don’t need to call the police?”

Goddess, definitely not. “I threw the first punch. It was justified, I guess.”

Sylvain doesn’t appear fully convinced. “Either way, you’re definitely safe here. I don’t stand for anything going on.” His voice brightens a little when Felix’s eyebrows rise from taking a sip. “Like it?”

“Yeah, it’s great. I can pay if I need to.”

A wave of Sylvain’s hand. “Can I ask a couple of questions? I’d like to know a little more about you.”

“What is this, 22 questions in a BDSM club? Might start getting weird.”

“Purely innocent, I swear. How old are you?”

“Twenty-eight.”

“Bet you still get asked for ID,” Sylvain teases. Felix rolls his eyes, taking another sip as he decides to not answer. This earns a chuckle from Sylvain. “What do you do?”

“Right now, nothing. I was fired.”

“Shit, sorry.”

Felix shrugs. “Is what it is. It’s fine, I didn’t like the work anyway. Still looking for something new, and I guess I have stuff to pass the time. I like exercising, video games … And Annette and Mercedes have got me into baking, lately.”

“Oh, nice! I’m not the _best_ cook around, but it’s fun.”

“Yeah. What about you? Aside from all this.” Felix waves to the club around them.

“I love fine art, board games. Reading is quite nice, too.”

A raise of his eyebrows. “Huh. That’s interesting. Wouldn’t have expected such … chill hobbies, I suppose.”

“Because of what I own here?” Sylvain asks with a grin. “You’d be surprised. Need to be a little artistic for some of the stuff I do, anyway.”

“Never thought about it that way.” Felix’s mind flickers to the rope that had been among Sylvain’s equipment, and he lets out a small cough, bringing his glass back to his lips. Sylvain is watching him with a grin lingering on his face.

“Have to admit there _might_ be one or two more personal questions I’d like to ask,” says Sylvain. “But I’ll spare you from the mind in the gutter.”

“Don’t have to, as long as you’re not annoying.”

Another chuckle. Sylvain’s gestures to a bartender with his hand, which Felix assumes indicates some kind of drink. Sylvain then leans back with his elbows on the surface of the bar.

“I have to admit I’m curious about you in general. Pretty guy popping up in the workshop, with me never seeing you before.”

“I’m sure that’s the same with many people. You not knowing them.”

“Yeah. But Mercedes knows you, and … I’ll say it, there’s something magnetic about you. Makes a guy wanna hear more, you know?”

Felix does know. After all, he feels similarly. There’s something that draws him in with Sylvain in return. One might say it’s simply because of who he is, what he does. That is certainly part of it. But there’s something else beneath the surface, something that Felix cannot explain, although still wants more of.

“Annette didn’t realise that your club catered to any of this stuff,” says Felix. “She was the same as you, wanting me to be somewhere safe. I looked you up. Found out you’re not just an activist and educational figure, but a Dom with a nightclub too. Kinda had a lot of whiplash.”

“It didn’t scare you away regardless.” Sylvain scoops up a shot of whiskey slid towards him, raising it to Felix. “Instead, you popped on over to the workshop. Something caught your eye. Made you want to learn more.”

“You can say that.” A strange sense of nerves arises under those eyes that inspect him. “I don’t know. I knew some stuff before I attended and felt inclined to learn more about it.”

“And did you like what you found out?”

“You tell me. I did mention that I wanted to attend more, and was disappointed that I couldn’t.”

“Yeah, that’s still a shame.” Sylvain hums as he places his glass down onto the bar. “You know, there _are_ ways around that, though.”

“Oh?” says Felix, genuinely intrigued.

“You could come here during the day when I’m not doing other things, and I could teach you what you wanted one-on-one.” Sylvain holds up his hands. “Nothing weird by that, I swear. I genuinely just mean to talk. No cash involved, either.”

“Isn’t that not the best way to run a business, though?”

“No, but it’s the best way to get to know you better.” A smile reaches Sylvain’s face. “You don’t have to say yes. But if this is what you’re interested in, I’d like you to learn from someone who won’t give you misinformation, or try to take advantage of your inexperience. And aren’t I the best teacher when you’ve already learned from me before?”

“Good point.” Felix watches him, those eyes that don’t seem inclined to leave him. They’re mesmerising, somehow. As is that smile. “Sounds good. How should we go about this?”

“Give me your number, then we can go from there.”

With a nod, Felix reaches into his pocket. He’s not too surprised by the suggestion, nor does he think deeply into it. It does seem the most logical when he imagines that Sylvain’s email address on his website is for business matters. “Just type your number in there yourself,” says Felix, handing his phone over. Sylvain turns it around to look at the case; turquoise with black cats over it.

“Oh, that’s cute,” he says, flipping the phone around again. “I’ll text myself too, so I can save yours in return.”

Felix receives his phone back a minute later, hit with a realisation. “Can you give me Ingrid’s, too?”

“Ingrid?”

“We’re old friends,” says Felix. “Drifted apart because of … something. And she asked me to get her number off you.”

“Reconnecting in a place like this, huh? Sure thing, I’ll go grab it.” Sylvain’s eyebrow quirks as he unlocks his phone again. “Kinda feels like fate, to be connected by all these people.”

“I don’t believe in that stuff.”

Even as he says those words, however, he cannot deny that at least a part of him agrees. Through Mercedes and Annette, now Ingrid—there could be others, for all Felix knows. It surprises him that he has never met Sylvain himself until recently.

It’s not a thought he can say he likes, imagining he didn’t meet Sylvain after all.

“There.” Sylvain returns Felix’s phone to him. “I’m looking forward to seeing you again, Felix. It’s been great talking to you.”

“Suppose it hasn’t been too bad,” he says, earning a laugh from Sylvain, one that brings a smile to his own face.

With a stressful week catching up to him and his senses becoming overwhelmed, Felix doesn’t linger here much longer. The music and voices in the air pierce straight through his pounding head. However, he doesn’t leave with disappointment, nor loss; rather, he heads home with the same foreign sense of excitement of what comes next.

His hand feels the phone in his pocket. He’ll be a single message away from bringing himself into that man’s world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> So I'm not posting twice in one day, I'll be leaving next Monday's update for Sylvix Week before continuing the week after. For now, I'd love to hear your thoughts, and you can find me on @nikobynight on Twitter to see all the art & writing posts I'll be making for it!


	4. Old and New Connections

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After time spent with his friends, Felix finally has a one-to-one conversation with Sylvain, learning how he can delve into the world of BDSM.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back! I've been itching to get back to posting this. Now Sylvix Week is out of the way, I'll be able to get back to my weekly posting schedule until it ends.
> 
> And, a 7k word chapter to make up for that little break, too. Hope you enjoy!

No one can be expected to change overnight. It’s not as though bad habits and unhealthy coping mechanisms arrive in an instant, and the time they take to develop can result in a long recovery as well. One might even cling to them in desperation.

Even so, the small steps matter. For Felix, simply the act of ignoring notifications from a dating app to focus on something else, not trying to harm himself through the actions of others, is a change worth noting.

Granted, it’s because his mind is focused on his friends instead. But countless times of cancelling plans to self-isolate let him acknowledge the positive notions behind these small victories.

His hand rises and knocks on the door in front of him. Mere seconds tick by before the door opens. A woman with chin-length blonde hair smiles at him.

“Oh, Felix! There you are,” says Mercedes, standing to the side. “Do come in.”

“Thank you,” he says. The door is closed after him. He balances himself with a hand on the wall as he slips off his boots. “It’s nice to see you, Mercedes. How are you?”

“I’m rather well, thank you. And yourself?”

“Getting by.” He straightens up, his smile growing that little more over the footsteps descending a set of stairs.

“Hey, Felix!” Annette greets. “Just in time; dinner is almost done.”

Felix sniffs to find the scent of pasta drifting through the air. He follows the wives’ footsteps into the kitchen at the end of the hallway. It’s a pleasant, brightly lit room with pastel coloured baking equipment on the kitchen counters. To the side lies a wooden dining table with four chairs, already set with three glasses and sets of cutlery.

Annette hums as she pours three drinks. She places them down on the coasters, gesturing for Felix to sit with her as Mercedes dishes up the pasta.

“How did it go today, applying for jobs?” Annette asks him.

“Not too bad. I’m applying all over the place at the moment, and I’ve had a few interviews. Just waiting for one to be fruitful.”

“You’ll get there,” she says. “Just keep going! If any places open up at the bakery, I’ll be sure to recommend you.”

“Sure I won’t make a mess of things?” he says with a touch of amusement.

“I have the utmost faith in you. Ah, thank you, honey!”

Mercedes has just placed two steaming plates of chicken pasta in front of Annette and Felix. “If Annette can work in a bakery without destroying it, so can you, Felix,” she says.

“ _Mercie!”_ Annie whines.

Mercedes merely smiles innocently as she settles down with her own dish. “Dig straight in.”

Felix lifts a spoonful of pasta, blowing down before popping it into his mouth. Its warmth and great taste are welcoming in an instant. He’s quick to eat another mouthful, realising how deeply he has missed the comfort of eating a home-cooked meal made by another.

“It’s obvious that there’s something you want to tell me,” says Felix, quick to notice how Annette is practically on the edge of her seat, hiding a smile behind her fork. “Go on, what is it?”

Her lips press together. She inhales loudly when they part, as though she’s been holding a deep breath. “Oh, I was going to wait until after we eat, but I can’t! Fe, we’ve been approved for adoption!”

A smile breaks out on his face. “Really? That’s amazing!”

“It was a rather lengthy process, but we got there in the end,” says Mercedes. “Both of our hours are flexible—I can control when I am called into schools, whereas Annie can drop to part time if she needs to.”

“And once they realised we’d have more than enough time for a kid, and that we’re both suitable, they said yes,” says Annette. She smiles fondly at her wife, who is smiling herself with dreamlike eyes fixed on her plate, stirring through the pasta with her fork.

“I’ve dreamed of this for so long, to be able to have a child of my own,” she says. “Playing with them, picking out their clothes, meeting their friends … And to do that with my best friend _and_ wife in one is even better.”

“Oh geez, Mercie, you’re going to make me blush.” Annette’s face, alike to Mercedes’, is already dusted with pink from joy.

“I’m overjoyed for you both,” says Felix.

“Sure they’re going to love their uncle Felix,” Annette says, laughing at the uncertain expression on her best friend’s face.

“I’m going to have to do some research on how you’re supposed to even interact with kids.”

“You will be fine,” says Mercedes. “Annie and I have some anxieties ourselves, but it’s all worth it. Besides, there is no need to act as though you’re not secretly good with kids, I remember you being called on to babysit a lot because of that!”

Felix clears his throat, awkward to acknowledge this. “Do you know what gender you’d like, yet? Or the age?”

“We’re not too fussy,” says Annette. “We’ll love them no matter what! We’d _like_ to adopt a toddler to spend as much time with them during their youth as possible, but adopting someone older is completely fine, too. Whoever needs a loving home.”

“Nowhere better than here to get that,” says Felix, meaning every word. Mercedes is one of the kindest, gentlest people he’s met, Annette energetic and positive. He has no doubts that they will be perfect parents.

Their meal continues on with light chatter. Happily digging into their meal, laughing at jokes and almost choking on the pasta they swallow. All of it, not just this food, is something Felix knows he has needed. He’s glad that he didn’t say no this time around.

“Oh, I’ve been meaning to ask,” says Mercedes. “How are you getting on with Sylvain, Felix?”

“He’s … something.” Despite his common sass, he simply has no other way to begin. It’s not as though he’s ever met someone like Sylvain. “He’s enjoyable to talk to, clearly passionate about what he does. I’d say we’re getting on well.”

“Sylvain is definitely kind and surprisingly mature, despite what initial assumptions may have you believe.” Mercedes smiles as she scoops pasta onto her fork. “He’s always a pleasure to work with.”

“What exactly do you do together?”

“A few things. We’ve attended protests together, as well as parades. I work with him in some of his workshops on occasion. Sexual education, relationship advice, consent … And we sometimes teach together in schools, too.”

Felix hums, fairly impressed. “So a fair amount, then.”

“Indeed. He’s a great partner and we always do well together. He is a busy one for sure, although since his club relocated and he’s been able to expand his staff, a lot more spare time was given to him.”

“Yeah … about that club.”

Mercedes lets out a laugh. “I’m sorry if that shocked you, at all. I had not really told Annette many details. Not to hide it or anything, it simply never came up.”

“And it’s not made me think differently about advising you to check Sylvain out, either,” says Annette. “Like I said, better there and staying safe. Besides, you seem … I don’t know. A little better at the moment.”

“I do?” He’s genuinely surprised; though he knows he has felt a little more positive, he wouldn’t have expected it to show.

“Mm. I’m not going to say you’ve done a whole 180-degree turn overnight, obviously not. But it’s like having this to focus on is helping to distract you.”

“And as long as you stick around Sylvain, you’ll be fine,” says Mercedes. “I’m not sure what you’re going to get involved in. But Sylvain, at least, will help keep you in a safe environment. He knows what he’s doing, trust me.”

Felix hums. Partially out of agreement, yet also because those words have caused his mind to wander. He’s not sure exactly what he wants to be involved in, either. He’s slowly accepting how he wants to at least experiment with what the community has to offer, more than what he has done in the past. But there’s something about Sylvain guiding him to others that doesn’t appeal to him.

He’s clueless to the specifics of this. There is one thing for certain, however: he’s anticipating the day the two meet again.

  
  


* * *

  
  


The following week passes similarly. More job interviews, trying to put his focus in anything but the nightmares which continue to haunt him. He has at least one advantage in regard to said interviews, and that is how his dismissal at his last job was unfair, rather than him messing up. Some places see any sort of dismissal in your history, however, and judge it no matter the cause.

Some may also believe he’s still too caught up in grief to work somewhere new. They could be right, but his job seeker’s allowance is not a suitable income to sustain him forever. Either way, the stress from a week of unsuccessful interviews is piling up, but a light arrives in the form of a message he actually does want to read.

**Ingrid**

_Hey Felix, how are you? This might be pretty straightforward, but I’ve missed you a lot. Are you fine to meet up today? We can take a walk in the park we used to like. It’s okay if it’s short notice._

  
  


The message brings a sense of nostalgia. A smile, despite all that has happened, reaches his face as he types out a reply.

  
  


**Felix**

_I’m free today, so I’d like that as well. Does this afternoon sound good to you? I can’t quite afford to grab lunch._

  
  


**Ingrid**

_Absolutely no problem. Say two o’clock, then? I’ll look forward to it!_

  
  


Felix too, he realises, as he’s able to bring himself up to cooking lunch as opposed to eating something quick, or leaving it entirely.

Around an hour later, he heads through the park Ingrid spoke of. The pair used to come here with Glenn. Sometimes with something concrete to do, like playing sports in the large stretches of grass, or perhaps even a picnic. Other times, all they would do is walk. Chat together, laugh. All the worries and struggles of the world could avoid them for that short period of time.

Felix wonders if it’s too much, too soon, even after all this time. The thought is cast aside when his eyes land on her. A smile is on his face; as much as her security uniform suits her, it’s pleasant to see her here in a pair of jeans and a cardigan.

“Oh, Felix,” she says. “It’s good to see you!”

She startles him when she brings him into a hug. He’s not hugged anyone except Mercedes or Annette for some time. He’s awkward in returning it, but at least he does so, and he appreciates the gesture nonetheless.

“How long has it been since we spent time together like this?” he asks, as though the answer isn’t precise for both of them. Ingrid smiles sadly.

“Still, it doesn’t matter how much time passes. We can still pick up from where we were.” The two begin to walk along the quiet pathways, Ingrid chuckling to herself. “You know, I think I hid it well, being in my work’s mindset and all. But I was so shocked to see you.”

“And you. Who knew our paths would cross that way?”

“Indeed. Maybe it proves that we’re not supposed to be out of each other’s lives, after all. I know you don’t believe in stuff like fate, but …”

“Even I can admit it’s a pretty huge coincidence,” he says. “Saying that, Sylvain seems to be smack in the middle of everyone I know, apparently.”

“He does get around, doesn’t he? I guess it happens when you do so much. I hope you’re getting along. He is a great boss to me.”

“Yeah. He’s an interesting one.” A pause, before Felix asks, “So what’s going on with you now? Aside from landing yourself work in a luxury nightclub, anyway.”

Ingrid hums in thought. “Same old, I suppose … I’ve mostly focused on work these last several years. It’s helped keep me going, you know? Staying busy.”

“I know exactly what you mean.”

“I thought as such. However, I’ve liked it this way. I don’t need a relationship to get me by. Not to say that I don’t think there’s anything wrong with wanting one, either.” Ingrid smiles, reminding Felix of a warmness he has not seen in years from her. “I think whatever path we choose, whatever needs we have, are all fine as long as it’s not hurting anyone. Wouldn’t you say?”

Felix wonders if not hurting anyone refers to one’s self as well. Even so, he hums in agreement. “Yeah. Whatever makes you happy. I think it’s probably been important for you to stand on your own two feet too, alone for a while. You two were engaged, after all.”

A silence falls. It’s natural for those words to bring the two back. Felix to a brother he looked up to and adored; Ingrid to the fiancé she thought she’d spend the rest of her life with. There’s both a beauty and misery in playing a strong, important role in multiple lives. Your death will affect them all in different ways.

There is still much Felix wishes to talk to her about this. He’s not sure on what to say, other than how he understands. He doesn’t want to hear about her role in Glenn’s life, and admittedly, Felix is jealous of how Ingrid didn’t have to know Glenn her whole life before he died.

It’s a struggle. But it’s one she understands, for she says, “I didn’t bring you out here to talk about Glenn. I did that enough in the past, seeing him in you too much, and I apologise.”

“It’s fine. It’s been, what, four years already?”

“It would still be understandable to hurt from it. I’d especially imagine it to be rough on you, what with—”

“I still don’t want to talk about my father, either,” he says, straight to the point. She nods.

“Of course. I’m sorry. All I mean to say is that I want to move on from that happened, start fresh with you. I don’t want our friendship to be put on hold any longer. I’ve missed you, Felix.”

“I’ve missed you as well,” he replies, meaning every word. It brings a smile to her face.

“Truly does feel like old times. You’ve not changed a bit, other than how your hair is longer.”

He hums, twisting one of the strands of his ponytail. He doesn’t have the heart to tell her that it’s only longer because he simply hasn’t had the motivation to get it cut as frequently, although there’s a light in that struggle. He can appreciate its length now, and how much he enjoys it falling as far as it does.

“On the flipside, you suit shorter hair,” he says. Years ago, Ingrid donned shorter hair, although with longer strands pinned to the back. It’s shorter all over now, bringing out the maturity in her face.

“Thank you! It’s much easier to manage, although Dorothea was sad that she couldn’t style it anymore.”

Dorothea … Of course, the woman Sylvain had been speaking to in the club. They’ve all seemed to find their own small world within the vast, overwhelming streets of the city.

Their conversation continues lightly. It’s difficult to talk about the years they’ve been apart; there is little to bring up but healing, or more precisely for Felix, his struggles to do so. But there are other things to mention. Television shows that have been on air, hobbies, new places that have opened in the city.

Small talk that Felix usually hates. But with an old friend, he manages, even enjoying himself for a lot of the time. The two are parting ways before long.

“It’s been lovely talking to you, Felix,” she says. “We’ll have to do this again soon.”

“I completely agree. I’m going to be mostly free up until I can land myself a job, so call on me whenever.”

“Will do.” Ingrid pauses, her voice quieter as she says, “I really am proud of you for holding on, Felix. I’m sure there are good things on the horizon for you. Just keep doing your best.”

“Yeah.” His smile is slightly forced, only because he doesn’t have the same hopes for himself. “I’ll try.”

He does mean it, even if he fears it’s baseless optimism. He cannot shrug off the joy of seeing her by saying it doesn’t mean anything, nor the way his heart skips a beat when he takes out his phone after the two friends part, and finds the name he has been waiting for.

His fingers almost fumble to open the message.

  
  


**Sylvain**

_Hey, Felix! How are you? Sorry I’ve not been in contact much, I was hired by a few places over the country to do some classes. Finally giving myself a few days back home, though! So, if you’re free, you can pop around to have a chat. Let me know x_

  
  


The kiss sends Felix off guard, although he imagines Sylvain simply messages everyone like that.

  
  


**Felix**

_Sure thing. I have a couple of interviews tomorrow, but how about the day after? Although are you sure you want to go ahead with teaching me when you’re supposed to be having days off? Wouldn’t want to interrupt._

  
  


**Sylvain**

_Like seeing such a cutie is a chore ;) No, really, it’s good. Totally different, way more casual. So stop on by!_

**Felix**

_As long as you don’t make me cringe this much in real life._

**Sylvain**

_Ooh, someone’s mouthy. Just joking around. Shoot me a message when you’re on the way over. Looking forward to seeing you x_

**Felix**

_Yeah. Me too._

  
  


He truly is, if the increase of his heartbeat is anything to go by.

  
  


* * *

  
  


The club has a different atmosphere when Felix enters it two days later. It’s peculiar to walk into the main room and see it without the blaring lights, all but for a few energy-saving bulbs to assist with the lack of windows. The floor is smooth beneath his feet without any vibrations.

There is still music, however. Gentle notes of a piano fill the air, low and high sounds blending together in harmony. Felix peers over the balcony’s railing. He’s surprised to find Sylvain sitting there. Learning the man has an interest in music is one thing; to hear him actually play is another.

Felix takes his time descending the stairs, unenthusiastic over the thought of interrupting. His footsteps remain quiet up until he reaches a stair that creaks. Sylvain’s head lifts, and he smiles, although those fingertips on the piano’s keys don’t stop their dance.

“Hey, Felix,” he says. “Sorry, I have a thing about not interrupting a song before it’s done.”

Felix shakes his head to indicate he doesn’t mind. He reaches the bottom of the stairs, smiling at a cleaner who is currently sweeping the floor. It’s only a momentary distraction before Felix’s attention is back on Sylvain.

He is yet to see what that man’s hands can do when inflicting controlled pain. It’s difficult to imagine when they are so careful, delicate, across those keys. Although Felix imagines that this very gentleness is a part of that keen control.

There’s a smile on Sylvain’s face. It’s clear he is aware of Felix’s eyes on him. Eye contact, and a wink. Felix scoffs slightly and looks away, but not without a small, amused grin tugging at his lips.

The music drifts into silence. “I know you said you like music, but that was pretty surprising,” says Felix, watching as Sylvain gets up from the piano’s stool.

“We all have our layers. And sometimes, this helps me to relax.”

“Do you play any other instruments?” Felix finds himself asking.

“I play the guitar—better than piano, I think. And I sing.”

“Show off,” says Felix, earning a grin from Sylvain.

“I’m sure you have skills of your own. Anyway, thank you for making it here. I’ve been looking forward to today.”

Felix hums, glancing around the room; he’s been made awkward by the eyes seeming to watch him so intensely. “Yeah. It’s unusual to see this place be so quiet. Almost like another world.”

“I like how versatile it is for certain. It’s nice for it to be a place of comfort, too. Speaking of, shall we sit down?”

Sylvain leads Felix over to one of the leather sofas. He’s already prepared some food on the table: appetisers, alongside two glasses of water. The two sit down. Felix picks up one of the selections, popping it into his mouth. It’s delicious and probably costs more than his weekly grocery shop.

“Good?”

“Yeah. No way you made it.”

Sylvain laughs, shaking his head. “Nah. Like I mentioned, I’m not the best cook out there. I’ll be sure to give the chef your praise.”

“Appreciated.”

The way the two eat together and talk normally is surprisingly pleasant. Sylvain’s company is enjoyable in general, even if he does wink on enough occasions to make Felix roll his eyes. Part of the charm, one might say.

It’s difficult to address how the conversation will change. Sylvain, however, is clearly more adept at this than Felix. He has no awkwardness when he asks, “So, you wanted me to teach you more about what there is to know?”

Felix nods. “I mean, your introductory course was packed with a lot of information. Kind of still absorbing it even now. But I guess there are more details and everything about it that make me want to know more.”

“It’s a bit difficult to describe when you don’t have a specific subject to go by, but it’s easy enough to get into. First, however, I should ask if there’s anything in particular on your mind.”

He ponders this. Has been for all the days between today and when he attended the workshop, even. All he truly knows is that this is calling him for a reason he cannot say. Every time he thinks about Sylvain pouring that equipment onto the table, and Felix imagines how it must be to partake in that, he is left with a strange sense of thrill in his chest.

“I’m having trouble deciding why I’m so entranced by this,” he finally says. “I guess I’d like to hear how you knew yourself.”

“A common question, as you might know.” Sylvain sits up that little straighter, taking a sip of water before he says, “For me, I realised I liked this gradually, and can’t specify the precise moment that I knew. I think there were little things over time. I grew up not having much control on my life at all. That’s how it might have developed for me; wanting to be able to have that control elsewhere, and to escape from how I had to live until that point.

“I did my research on it. The more that I read about how Dominants are in bed, what they desire from this kind of session and why they enjoy it, the more I related. I had some issues accepting it, mind you. It took time for me to understand that controlled, consensual BDSM isn’t the same as abuse.” There’s a pause that strikes curiosity in Felix. A past struggle reflects in Sylvain’s eyes, although Felix knows it’s not his place to question it. Not when they have only known each other for a short period of time. “And the awkward thing about research is that not all sources are credible. You can’t see anything and automatically believe that it’s safe. I had to look around, take my time, spending a couple of years not actually partaking in anything aside from light bondage.”

“How _did_ you end up delving into it properly?” Felix questions.

“A little similar to you, actually. I found places dedicated to this stuff. Asked questions, watched lighter scenes … Just little things like that. I ended up learning that workshops existed. It turned out that what I already knew was actually accurate, and I didn’t really need to learn more this way, but I wanted to be sure. I guess I was also taking time to accept it.”

“When you started going into that scene, how long did it take you?”

Sylvain hums. He takes one of the appetisers as he thinks over his words, taking a bite into it. “Not too long, I think. I went on dating apps and started searching for people. Casual relationships, you know. And … well, this might surprise you, but,” a sheepish grin appears on Sylvain’s face, “I tried out submission, too, alongside learning how to be a Dom.”

Felix feels his eyes widen. “What, Mr Dominant Dom who owns a BDSM club submitted too? That’s a surprise.”

The wording causes Sylvain to burst out laughing. “I did, and it was actually because I heard that respected Doms in the community often try submission. See, Dominants are often guided by those who have experience already, and though it’s not mandatory, it can help you learn about the submissive’s perspective. I don’t exactly _enjoy_ submitting, and I could only mentally handle it to certain degrees thanks to some issues of mine, but it helped me learn more.”

“I can get that, actually,” says Felix. “Is it something submissives should do, too?”

“Not so much. I mean, like I said, it’s not mandatory for Dominants to do this. But a large reason to do so is learning about limits. Submissives don’t really have that same worry away from acknowledging their _own_ limits, and communicating with their partner about each other’s.”

“Ah. Kind of glad.” A hand rubs the back of Felix’s neck, his eyes averted from Sylvain. “So, uh, what happened after you learned more? I guess you started delving more into dominance?”

Sylvain nods. “Yep. It was a slow process, as I was also in university at this point, plus doing educational talks.”

“Seems like you’ve been busy for a while.”

“Ever since I left home at seventeen,” Sylvain confirms. He doesn’t say anything more than that, Felix not asking questions as he knows what that implies: there was a reason for him to leave so quickly, so young.

But it shows how hard-working Sylvain is. How this success, despite what one might believe, was not simply handed to him, at least not all the way. It’s clear that his passion about all of this has led him here.

“I guess that it’s a prominent part of your life,” says Felix instead. “I remember you mentioning something in the workshop, about how there are some who will only delve into BDSM a little, mostly just to spice up the bedroom like I’ve done before, and those who have it as more as a lifestyle.”

“Oh, yeah. It’s a spectrum, in a sense. You can go all the way from someone simply wanting to use handcuffs and a blindfold in bed, maybe a little spanking here and there, to those who dedicate their lives 24/7 to BDSM.”

Felix’s eyes widen. “24/7?”

“Uh-huh. There’s some who choose to go down that more intense route. An example is masters and their slaves—not just in a general roleplay, only temporary, but those who will dedicate their lives to that. There are some who don’t want to have any life at all outside of that BDSM lifestyle.”

It takes a moment for Felix to process this. “I don’t think I could do that.”

“Nor me. I’d say that with lasting partners, I do fall into a lifestyle. I find it important to establish rules, generally maintain those roles, but I definitely don’t see it as the only thing in a relationship—it’s not as though I’d dedicate everything only to that. Whatever floats people’s boats though, you know? There’s some who might find something as intense as that erotic, a fantasy if you must, but couldn’t commit to that in reality.”

Felix hums as he ponders this. “Yeah. I can understand that.”

“You’re allowed to have your own limits, your own desires from both casual and serious relationships. That’s one thing I’ll want to speak to you about. But first,” Sylvain takes a sip of water, the slightest grin on his face as he places the glass down. “You, Felix, haven’t actually told me what it is that _you’re_ looking for. Unless you don’t know yet.”

With a tongue running around his lips, Felix’s eyes cast to the floor. All he knows is that he wants to try. He wants to feel, but in a far, far more alluring way than before.

He wants to know how it feels to be vulnerable because he chooses to be. To let go, for what is possibly the first time, without feeling constant fear and tension over what is to come.

But there’s a wall between him and those desires. One he’s likely put up himself.

“Sorry if that was too much of a personal question.”

Felix shakes his head. “What else are you going to ask, when we’re talking about this? I just … I’m having difficulty coming to terms with it.”

“The fact that you’d like to indulge in kinks?”

“No. No, not really. I’ve never judged that. I’ve slept with people who have their own fetishes, and like I’ve said, I’ve done this casually before. I think … I think it might be because of what I think I’d want from it.”

Sylvain rests one leg on top of the other as he leans back. He takes another sip of water with a thoughtful look in his eyes. “I apologise if I’m going to seem intrusive.”

“It’s fine.”

“You strike me as a person who feels as though they want to try being a full submissive, but have insecurities or fears in the way.”

Felix blinks. “How did you …?”

“I work in this scene, remember?” A hint of amusement, before it fades. “You see this in women sometimes, with those who feel as though they cannot be a feminist whilst also being submissive. However, it’s vastly common in men. No matter who they’re attracted to, they sometimes feel as though it means they’re not enough of a ‘man’ anymore. I’ve met transgender people too, who have felt dysphoric over their sexual preferences. It’s more common than you might think.”

The thought is comforting, to know that he isn’t the only one to feel this way. He supposes it’s not unlike those who might be insecure over positions in bed. This comes to mind, and he says, “It makes sense. I had enough problems realising I like to bottom in bed. Not really a ‘I can’t be male without doing this’ thing, or at least not for too long. It’s more like … I’m scared of showing weakness. I don’t want to be used through being vulnerable.”

“That’s a common fear, too. Pardon me, but I imagine you’re attracted to men?” Felix nods. “Many gay men have that fear when sleeping with other men. Seeming weak if they are to bottom, I mean. And being submissive, although it doesn’t always go hand-in-hand with bottoming, often does correlate and has similar connections and insecurities to that. I think it’s important to know that the role of a submissive isn’t to be weak. Far from it, actually. There’s some who often say that it’s the submissive who has the most control, even whilst giving up that control.”

“I think I know it’s not weak, in reality. I still just—it’s difficult to understand.” Felix’s eyes are fixed on his hands, nails fidgeting with each other. “I’m quite assertive in day-to-day life, I’d say. I hate being walked over. Hate people telling me what to do. So why would it be that I crave to be … submissive?”

A smile returns to Sylvain’s face. Without his common teasing tone, or that of amusement. He places the glass down, turning to face Felix that little more. It’s a simple movement that allows him to feel at ease. How Sylvain leans forward slightly, as though he is concentrating on every word.

“I’ve said this many times in my life, and will continue to do so,” he says. “Your everyday self and your bedroom self _don’t_ have to be the same. Perhaps it would be as such if you dedicated your entire life to the lifestyle. Otherwise, it’s fine. You’d be surprised at how many people you get who are just like you are personality wise, but enjoy being a submissive. It helps them unwind, let down walls that they usually have up. Nothing wrong with it at all.”

“I’ve heard that before. Guess it’s just difficult to accept.”

“Which is fine. You can take as long as you like. What’s important is what _you_ want to do, and how you want to go about it. Do you want to take time to research more than you have and think over what you want? Would you like to experiment with someone you can trust? It’s all down to you, and any choice is fine as long as it’s one you want to make and you’re safe. I can help you with the steps you need for either one.”

A pause. Felix thinks about his desires. Those on the surface, that which are obvious, and those deep inside of him. A spark inside that only seems to grow brighter. Has always been there, flickering in the dark, and is being brought to light the more this man teaches him.

The answer is simple, but saying it isn’t, and it takes another sip of water and Felix silently pondering everything to speak again.

“I think I need to try it out to see. I already know a fair bit, and I guess I just … want to learn by doing.”

Sylvain nods in understanding. “Absolutely. At the end of the day, you can only really understand if something is for you by trying it out. It’s important, however, that you take it one step at a time. Don’t push yourself into something that’s too much for you. It’s best to build up little by little.”

“What’s the best way to go about that?”

“A common thing that people like are contracts,” says Sylvain. “Not as scary as it sounds, I promise. You’re not getting into anything you can’t get out of. Basically, contracts are a way for Dominants, submissives, and even switches, to communicate what they can and can’t do, what they desire. Dominants can set certain day-to-day rules if they are indulging in BDSM as a lifestyle. However, this is often a thing that those accustomed to BDSM will do and use it as a formal type of play, where it’s a fun way for them to talk about limits. For newcomers, I think lists usually work better.

“It can simply be a summary you wish to go off. Of course, you must still communicate, and it could be that there are things you discover about yourself as you experiment with that person. However, it’s a safe way to begin, and good to revisit if your views change.”

Felix hums. “I get that. I’m still not sure about everything, but there’s certain stuff I do know. And I’m quite open to trying new things.”

Sylvain smiles, full of reassurance. “Then that’s what you’d put on there. Is this something you want to get on soon? As in, you’d like for this to occur not long after we speak today?”

“Yeah. I don’t think I want to wait too long.” It almost scares him, how much this desire is building. “Would that be fine?”

“Absolutely. So long as I know you’re taking it one step at a time, it doesn’t matter when you start, considering you already knew some stuff before we met. It’d be best if I give you a template for the list, help you fill it out if you need that. Then I can get in touch with some Dominants I know are suitable for newcomers, see who is compatible and—”

“I want it to be you.”

The words leave him before he has a chance to consider them. He swallows from how Sylvain’s eyebrows rise, alongside his eyes widening slightly. Felix urges himself to look away from them, embarrassment finding him. But he can’t. Those eyes, so seemingly ordinary, attract his own like nothing else. It’s almost as though they put him under a spell.

“You’re not the first to say that.” Sylvain leans back, a smile appearing on his face. “But never have I felt this intrigued hearing it, beautiful.”

Felix curses himself for the heat he can feel rise in his cheeks. He’s finally able to look away, instead down at the food on the table. He chooses to nibble on one of the appetisers as merely something to do during this silence.

He’s usually so snappy with remarks, but finds himself unable to utter a single word.

“I’d be happy to, however.” His attention snaps back up to Sylvain. “If you’d rather put your trust in me, if you feel as though that’s what makes you most comfortable, then by all means, I can help you into this.”

“As … as long as you’re sure.” Felix feels ashamed all of a sudden. “I know you’re busy with a lot. And I don’t know if you’re exclusive to anyone right now.”

“Not at all. Haven’t been for a little while. And this, similar to talking to you, is far from a chore.” Sylvain’s smile grows that little more. There is something in his eyes that Felix cannot quite pinpoint. “We make a good match, don’t you think? I feel as though before I even see that list of yours, we might end up being compatible.”

“Do you ever stop flirting?” asks Felix. Sylvain lets out a laugh.

“Sometimes. It gets a little difficult not to with someone as cute as you.” That face softens a little. “All teasing aside, I appreciate how you’d rather it be me, and I’m glad that you want to allow me to guide you into it.”

“I mean, you’re the one who’s taught me this stuff, is so passionate about me being safe. Guess it just makes sense.”

“I’m sure that’s the reason alone, and nothing else.”

Sylvain doesn’t expand, merely raising his glass to Felix before taking a sip. A knowing look is in his eyes. Felix rolls his own, bringing his attention to the drink in his hands. He doesn’t want to keep making eye contact. Not necessarily because it makes him uncomfortable, but rather, the opposite.

Felix has already spilled so much of himself, without letting Sylvain also see why he wants to experiment with no one else. There is no denying, however, how much it feels safe to do so. He knows that Sylvain is a popular figure for a reason. But to be this captivated by someone he has only known for a short period of time, more than he ever has before, and only wish to explore this world with him? That his strange relationship with sexual attraction, where he has never truly felt _attracted_ to those he sleeps with, seems to be differing here?

It’s crazy. But none of this has been normal from the start.

“How would we start?” asks Felix eventually.

“There’s still things you have to know. Before we delve into anything, I’d like to talk further about limits. Then it’d be onto bringing you into the physical side. Non-sexual, at first. We’ll help you ease into it.”

_At first._ “And once I have?”

“If you do, Felix,” Sylvain places his now empty glass down on the table, “and it’s your wish to continue experimenting with me, then I’ll give you everything you want. But let’s be patient and get you into this properly.”

“Right.” Felix cannot say anything else. He’s trying to not look at Sylvain’s eyes again, knowing that once he does so, it’ll be difficult to look away again. And there’s a silly part of his mind that believes the blush that must be on his face would be all the more apparent, should they make eye contact.

“Do you have any other questions for today?”

“Uh, no. I don’t think so.” He adds, as an afterthought, “And thanks. You didn’t have to do any of this for me.”

“Didn’t have to, but wanted to. I’m looking forward to getting to know you, in more ways than one.” Sylvain gets to his feet, Felix’s eyes finally returning to his face properly. “I’m going to clear out of here before the club opens. Kinda need a quiet night, so it’s up to my place I go.”

“Can’t you hear the music from there?” asks Felix.

“No. It’s pretty high, and the insulation here is good.”

Felix nods, as though he can understand how it must be to have that much money as an adult. Although Felix knows it’s not all to be wasted; he’s seen how much Sylvain donates through his website. Perhaps more than anyone he has ever met, Sylvain is teaching him how there can be more than meets the eye.

He’s also escorted to the entrance by Sylvain. Unnecessary, but appreciated. It makes him realise how much the guys Felix has corresponded with don’t understand mannerisms in the simplest of ways.

“I’ll message you a link to the template,” says Sylvain. “And we can also arrange when we meet again.”

“Sure thing.” Felix hovers, wondering if there’s anything else to say; he’s not too fond of the thought of leaving. All he _does_ say, however, is, “Well, I’ll be seeing you, then.”

He’s still content, still satisfied, as he heads back the way he came. Frightened too, in a sense. Not of Sylvain, but rather himself, these walls he’s gradually letting down, a side he would have never expected to possess to this degree.

But he’s human. And it turns out that like any human, he’s not without depth, layers, wishes that cannot be seen by a mere glance, into eyes that are a little brighter than normal.


	5. First Step

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Felix has never known how powerful the small steps in intimacy can be, nor that they can intoxicate him this much.

A memory currently pops into Felix’s mind. For some time, he had been confused about his identity, as is the case for many LGBT youth. Some might have been sure of themselves since a young age. Others spend years upon years questioning, be it that the world’s judgement and discrimination puts a wall between them and discovering themselves, or they’re simply confused on what else there is to be other than the societal norm.

One might refer to online tests to help discover who they are. Felix remembers, now fondly, a time when he was seventeen and searched on Google for sexuality quizzes. For years, Felix wondered if he simply didn’t like anyone, for he never felt properly attracted to the girls around him. Puppy crushes, perhaps. But never full attraction. Until, that is, he realised that he didn’t view men in quite the same way as those girls, even if his sexual attraction would be confusing there as well sometimes.

He was seemingly ‘late’ in questioning himself. Which, in a sense, might have been a blessing; at least it granted him the ability to use the Internet. The quiz told him what he knew all along. And, in retrospect, silly little quizzes online are hardly enough to make you sure of yourself. But it helped him. It was as though a stranger was reaching through the screen, giving him the advice that he was too wary and embarrassed to seek from friends and family.

Those quizzes are often merely fun, joked about by older LGBT people who bond over their shared experiences. What Felix is taking right now, however, seems designed to truly know no bounds:

_1\. I desire being dominated, especially in the bedroom._

Five checkboxes, ranging from strongly disagree to strongly agree. His eyes flicker down and see something about masochism and whether or not he wants to be degraded during sex.

‘ _It’s a test I have on the website. If you’re not fully sure about which categories you fall into, this is a good way to check,’_ had been Sylvain’s text message minutes ago. ‘ _You can just go by what you think you’d desire if you don’t have experience with it, and then you can get an idea of what there is to consider. Obviously, it’s not perfect! But it’s basically a better version of one I used when I was first researching.’_

It’s a good idea. Whilst Felix understands which sub-categories exist through his own vague knowledge and what he’s learned through Sylvain, he still doesn’t fully know what each one entails, nor what it takes for him to fall into that category. Even experienced people sometimes find it fun to return to this.

Still, there’s a strange embarrassment over filling this out, or perhaps simply nerves. The thought of voicing these desires aloud to someone else is anxiety-inducing. He had enough trouble speaking to Sylvain about believing he’s a general submissive. But if this is going to work, if they’re going to stay safe, he knows he has to swallow his pride and talk this through.

The results at the end widen his eyes. And all he can think is: _fuck, it’s like being diagnosed with kinks._ But a lot makes sense. Even he cannot deny to himself how deeply he wants to be restrained, for example, and such a high percentage on bondage-based questions shouldn’t come as a surprise.

  
  


**Felix**

_Feels like this test is targeting me._

**Sylvain**

_The questions are meant to be accurate ;) Tell me about your results_

**Felix**

_Uh … about what you’d expect, I guess. Masochism is higher than I expected. I can just send a screenshot if it’s easier._

  
  


**Sylvain**

_Sure thing! I’d like to talk about it in person, understand you personally. But it’d be good to go off_

  
  


He skims through his results. Casting aside the thought that he should feel ashamed, and urged on by Sylvain’s reassurance from the other day, he sends them.

  
  


**Sylvain**

_About what I’d expect, too. The ones you scored high on are no surprise, and little girl/boy being low is fine. Although getting called daddy even without age play is fun, lmao_

**Felix**

_Not calling you daddy._

  
  


**Sylvain**

_You’d call me master though, according to you getting a pretty high score on pet play and master/slave x_

  
  


Oh, he’s an absolute asshole sometimes. Felix wills himself to not blush, grumbling as he brings his phone closer to himself, sinking down the sofa a little.

  
  


**Felix**

_Shut the fuck up._

**Sylvain**

_Hey, just teasing a little. Sorry, was that too far?_

**Felix**

_No, it’s fine, I just don’t really get how to respond. I’m a bit weird with sexual stuff, all appearances aside, and some of this is new to me._

**Sylvain**

_I completely understand, and you can tell me if I ever push it_

_Thanks for sending! Hopefully you’ve learned a bit about what you feel like you’d enjoy. Now, I’ve got the template ready to send over. It’s not really a contract as I feel like that’s too formal for our situation—I just made something that will basically take what you’ve learned from this test, and put it here with more detail on limitations, as well as what you’re most inclined to try out. What’s your email? I’ll send it that way. Mine too, so you can both fill out yours easier and also get an understanding on me as well_

  
  


He gives his email address and, minutes later, is opening up both documents. It’s simple to navigate. He decides on reading through Sylvain’s first as inspiration. Basic details first, such as his name and age, before getting to what matters at this moment.

  
  


_**Describe yourself: what roles you partake, what you enjoy and the importance of BDSM in your life (or what you would like it to be), as well as anything you enjoy less.** _

_My likes cover a broad spectrum of Dominant roles; I’m willing to try most things and enjoy doing so, and I’m happy to cater specifically to different partners. I personally enjoy most aspects of bondage and sadism. I don’t tend to remain as a single type of superior figure, unless a partner has a specific role they’d like me to partake. I tick all boxes but that of age play—I personally enjoy this less and won’t initiate it myself, although I’m happy to cater to partners’ wishes._

_BDSM is a prominent part of both my work and everyday life. I don’t expect partners to give themselves entirely to me, especially not those who only partake in kinks during sex. I do, however, still consider BDSM as a lifestyle, and with serious partners, desire this to be part of our day-to-day lives, at a seriousness the two of us can agree with._

  
  


_**What do you desire in a partner?** _

_Due to my flexibility and enjoyment in a number of Dominant roles, I can mesh well with all types of submissives, although I do enjoy those with an edge to them above all else—the type who isn’t afraid to act bratty at times. Enjoying bondage is a must, and preferably masochism too._

_I also especially require good communication. I will not be involved with someone who cannot be fully truthful about their limits. It’s important for both of us to be mutually benefiting from the relationship, and as any Dom should be, I will not merely use someone for my own gain._

_In general, I’m also attracted to all types of people, but when talking about physical appearance, I especially like people who are smaller than me. Dark hair is nice. All genders are fine. Personality wise, I love those with a bit of an attitude, but are still loyal and caring._

  
  


_**Any hard limits?** _

_Though I will partake in consensual non-consent, I won’t do so to extremes, and it must apply to sex and bondage only; I cannot hurt someone who will repeatedly tell me not to, regardless if a safe word is in place and we have discussed this previously._

  
  


The list continues with a few more details on Sylvain’s preferences and soft limits. From start to finish, Felix is immersed, so much so that he barely notices he’s somewhat turned on until he reaches a particular statement, in regards to what Sylvain expects from a partner: _though I enjoy brats as mentioned, it’s going to make life difficult if that’s the case in every scenario; there are times I won’t enjoy the fight in getting a partner to obey. One of the rules I have is that you must submit. And sometimes, you have to do that without playfully resisting, because I know you want that as much as I do._

Felix knows that this list is generalised information, not put together for him alone. The phrasing used, however, as though Sylvain is speaking directly to him … It causes his heart to race. As does the realisation that he fits the criteria of what Sylvain enjoys in a partner.

They’d work well together, Sylvain had said. Felix thought it had simply been flirting. Now, he sees that Sylvain is simply used to this scene enough to understand Felix, possibly more than he understands himself.

All of this is strange to him. When he imagines engaging vanilla sex with anyone, it doesn’t do much for him at all. The moment he imagines doing any of this with _Sylvain,_ however … Well, the thought is more pleasing in itself, but he finds his attraction especially feels stronger when involving these kinks.

  
  


**Felix**

_I’ve read yours. Going to type out mine, too._

**Sylvain**

_Great! Like I said, it’d be best to talk about this in person, but I’d like to have a clearer image before we do so. That way, I can think more about the steps we can take to get you into this safely and with you enjoying yourself_

_How are you feeling after reading mine? Not overwhelmed?_

**Felix**

_A bit. But not in a bad way._

**Sylvain**

_In what way then, kitten?_

  
  


_Kitten._ Felix isn’t sure he’s ever been called that before. Not in a flirtatious way, at least. He slouches further and further, inwardly screaming.

**Felix**

_It’s a lot to take in. There’s the fact that nearly everything you typed there excites me. Still having a hard time getting my head around that._

  
  


**Sylvain**

_Someone has found themselves heading in the right direction, then. That makes me especially excited to see what you like. I have a feeling we’re going to mesh well x_

  
  


_Even more than you think,_ Felix thinks to himself, wondering how he is feeling more alive than he has in a while, when he hasn’t even stepped into this world properly yet.

  
  


* * *

  
  


It takes seeing the higher floors of _Sensations_ for Felix to understand how Sylvain can find time to relax, when living above a club. It turns out that the sound proofing is as good as he says, which, Felix is now realising, is also necessary for couples to not overhear each other through the walls when partaking in sessions.

An elevator brings them up to Sylvain’s room. Felix’s jaw drops open and he’s reminded of how broke he is. The place is … huge. Not as much as the club, nowhere near, and the place is only split into two sections. But still. Modern interior, fluffy carpet beneath their feet, sofas and a coffee table placed a little away from some tall glass doors.

Somehow, despite being luxurious, it also feels homely. There are personalised cushions on the sofa, books aren’t perfectly lined on a bookshelf, and photographs line a fake fireplace.

It’s still a home, just one that is unusual. “It’s nice here,” says Felix, removing his shoes. He’d have done so even if Sylvain hadn’t, uncaring that the carpet is a deep red. Sylvain seems like the type to care about this. Felix glances to a kitchen area on one side; white counters with black marble surfaces. “Even has a little kitchen. You did say you enjoy cooking, sometimes.”

“Yep! Granted, my favourite chef, Dedue, cooks way better than me. I usually eat his food more.” Sylvain wanders into the living area, stretching his arms above his head. “Take your time looking around, if you want to.”

Felix nods, his eyes falling on the photographs. They remind him that Sylvain has a completely ordinary side to him. There are photos of him with groups of friends, laughing, smiling. A couple of photos feature him alone—one in particular catches his eye, where Sylvain is stroking the head of a horse. “You like horses?”

“Oh yeah, lots! I’ve gone horse riding a lot, since I was a kid.”

“Horse riding too. How many things do you juggle, exactly?”

Sylvain laughs, shrugging his shoulders. “A lot, I guess. I like meeting people, and hobbies are a great way to do that.”

“Enjoying meeting people. Can’t relate.” There’s a small smile on Felix’s face to show he’s fooling around. He turns back to the photos, with the slightest furrow of his eyebrows. There is not a single person here who looks similar to Sylvain. “You don’t have family photos?”

“I probably do, somewhere. But they’re not exactly worthy enough to be up there.”

Felix knows better than to push for the reason why. His eyes glance out of the glass doors, taking in a balcony (of course) on the other side, decorated with a small table and two chairs. He soon settles down next to Sylvain on the sofa.

“Hope it doesn’t seem weird to be invited into my room,” says Sylvain. “I just thought it’d be much more private. No one comes up here unless I tell them to. Not even for cleaning; that’s left to me up here.”

Felix finds himself glancing at the slightly misplaced items. “Yeah, I can tell. It’s far from messy or anything, but there are certain aspects that make it obvious a maid hasn’t been in here. Not weird either, by the way. I like how quiet it is.”

“Great, isn’t it? If it didn’t look like it was going to rain any second, we could have sat on the balcony and watched the view as we talked. Speaking of … I printed off the list you gave me. Hope that’s okay.”

“Uh, sure. I’ve expected no less.”

Even so, as Sylvain takes the paper out from a pile on the coffee table, Felix doesn’t look at it until its back is safely to him. Rereading what he previously typed is embarrassing to him.

“So, there’s a lot here that is clear enough without further discussion. It seems as though taking the BDSM test helped you get more of an idea on what you’re into specifically, and you already have a good knowledge on aspects of it. What I need to talk through with you first, however, is that you appear uncertain on your soft and hard limits.”

Felix tongue runs over his lips. “Yeah, I didn’t know what to put. I’m unsure about it.”

“I’d expect that to some degree on this, most especially with kinks you’re not sure you’d enjoy until you try them, and how there are certain aspects you might not understand your limits on until you give it a try. However …” Sylvain pauses for a moment. His index finger taps against the paper with an expression of concentration on his face. It’s as clear as always that he’s thinking through his words. “It worries me a little that you seem very uncertain on what is too much for you.”

“I’m cool with anything, I guess.” He shrugs. “I’ve been in plenty of situations I don’t like when sleeping with someone, just pushing through until it’s over.”

“That’s not healthy at all.”

“I guess not.” The bluntness irritates Felix, but he’s admittedly impressed as well; no one is usually able to be so forward with him. He supposes that Sylvain is used to dealing with this.

“And here, you _can’t_ just push through if something is uncomfortable for you. This isn’t the same as simply being a little rough, but still vanilla. BDSM can be traumatising on either end if one or both of you don’t want that. If you encounter something you don’t like, you have to voice this. I can’t emphasise that enough.”

“All right, I get it.” Felix curses himself mentally for how he sounds somewhat exasperated. He knows this is important to Sylvain, he just … Perhaps he doesn’t fully understand what it means to look after himself.

“You must.” Sylvain places the paper on the table. Though his voice softens a little, it’s still firm. “Don’t mean to nag, embarrass you, anything like that. I’ve been there when it comes to having an unhealthy relationship with sex. This is just something you must be careful with, hence why I want to bring you into this one step at a time.” There’s a pause, before Sylvain says, “I’m going to tell you something rather controversial: if you’re a Dom in an active BDSM community, flitting between partners rather than the one, it’s common to have allegations be made against you at some point.”

Felix’s eyes widen. “Allegations? Like rape, or …?”

“That and assault. I haven’t, as I take more steps than most, and anyone who’s not serious will be made too bored by the fact that I won’t let anyone dive straight into sessions with me.” Sylvain takes a moment to drink a sip of water, resting his arm on the back of the sofa after the glass is placed down. “There are many people, women interested in men especially, who will dive into this scene with very little knowledge. They might be bored of what they’ve had so far, might have seen _Fifty Shades_ and be enticed by that darkness. They won’t speak through their limits properly, give warning to a Dom that things are too heavy. That misunderstanding can lead to them making claims of rape, assault, violence, anything like that. Sometimes it’s purposefully out of regret over their actions, whereas others might genuinely not understand what they agreed to, and were too afraid to do anything but nod to every kink and didn’t voice distress. This can happen to even proper Dominants.”

“I—yeah. I can imagine that,” Felix says eventually, his eyes wide regardless. “Can’t blame either fully, but I’m seeing how important the communication is here.”

“It’s important in any sexual circumstance.” There’s a sad smile on Sylvain’s face, almost as though he understands that this is something Felix has lacked in. “But here, it’s especially so. This is why soft and hard limits are important to discuss. It’s okay if you don’t understand them fully, or for them to come to you as we progress into this. What’s not okay is shrugging it off because you think you can handle it. There’s a chance you couldn’t, and that’s why we’re taking it slow, and why I’m asking this several times from you.”

Guilt finds Felix. He’s not fully certain why, as there’s no anger, no disappointment in Sylvain’s voice, merely good-natured explanations. Perhaps it’s because of how casually he has treated things going wrong. Sylvain has already mentioned that this is certainly plausible in sessions. Felix realises what matters is his reaction to that, how if something _does_ go wrong, he’s honest.

He’s not used to that honesty. Once or twice, he’s told a guy something he doesn’t like. The possible reactions, to him, were sometimes not worth it. He doesn’t want to be laughed at. Ridiculed by men with suppressed hatred for how Felix, unlike them, no longer has qualms about his sexuality, that he moved on from trying to prove he’s still a ‘man’ for how he sleeps with them—these men project, they see this pretty boy as a way for them to feel less gay themselves, and it simply hasn’t always been worth the energy to argue.

Just let it be over with. That’s the common thought which has appeared in his mind often, and one he knows could leave him with even more consequences, should it continue on here.

“There might be … some stuff, I guess,” says Felix, because he knows that Sylvain is not one of those men. “I’m not as eager over age play, like I mentioned on there, and … there’s stuff about degrading, isn’t there?”

“That’s right. Is there something that doesn’t sit well for you there?”

“Well, the general premise, I can find appealing. Which I think is why I got some score on that test thing. But …” A hand rubs at the back of Felix’s neck. “I don’t know. I think it’s something I might be able to try once I’m more used to this, but up until then, it might stir up some bad things for me.”

Sylvain nods. “I understand. It took me a while to warm up to that, too, and I’ll only ever degrade someone if they tell me they want that. For now, I can leave it. A few things won’t be as relevant now until we’ve worked through basics, but thank you for giving me something to work with.”

“Sorry that I don’t know how to bring this up properly.”

“Not at all. We’ll mostly be starting off with general bondage anyway, some impact play—you’re most certainly fine with both of that?”

“Oh, yeah, sure.” It comes out a little stronger than expected, and he coughs. “It’s cool, I mean. I’ve had essences of both in sex before.”

“You’re allowed to be excited, even if we’re taking it slow,” Sylvain teases. “Speaking of, it’s up to you if you want to try anything physical today, or if you’d like to leave it at talking. Granted, I’m not going to have sex with you, yet. I know that’s disappointing.”

“Oh, shut up,” says Felix, giving Sylvain a small push; the latter laughs. “What do you mean by physical? With specifics, I mean?”

“A little test to see if you’re comfortable with kinkier aspects, if it appeals to you at all. Usually, I start with a blindfold and tickler.”

“Tickler?”

“I’m sure you’ve seen pictures—like a wand with a fluffy end. It’s a fun thing to add to foreplay, although it works well as a basic step into seeing how you respond to kink, even with the blindfold alone and no other restraints.”

“I see.” Felix’s lips purse. “Not sure if I’m fine with a blindfold yet.”

“Any traumas relating to sensory deprivation?”

“No, not that, it’s just …” He doesn’t want to say it, doesn’t want to delve too much into his life, but he knows he must do so to at least some degree, if he is letting this man in. “It’s going to sound stupid. But not being able to see is … well, I’m used to that from closing my eyes. When I’m not exactly having a blast with a guy. It’s not that bad,” he adds quickly from the rise of Sylvain’s eyebrows, “not like a blindfold would send me into a panic. I, uh, I don’t think, anyway. I just … It’s too vulnerable as well, I guess. I don’t know.”

There’s sadness in Sylvain’s eyes. Perhaps the cause is how Felix is uncomfortable with sex usually, and how it has clearly impacted him. “Is it something you’d rather not cross off the list fully, but simply not engage in for now?”

“Yeah. Basically. I’m awkward as fuck.”

Sylvain smiles, shaking his head. “Not at all. Everyone’s different; what you find easiest to try first might differ to someone else. If that’s not for you yet, we can try light restraints instead. Nothing sexual with it.”

“That’s fine with me.”

“You’re certain?”

Felix has to hold back from saying how much he wants it, in order to continue replying in his collected, near aloof manner. “Yeah. Go for it.”

A hand pats Felix’s leg as Sylvain gets up to his feet. He heads into the other half of the apartment, closed off by a wall. Felix imagines it’s Sylvain’s bedroom, and resists the urge to get up and peek inside out of curiosity.

Sylvain returns with a pair of handcuffs hanging from his finger. There’s a certain air brought with him as well, something that causes Felix to sit up a little straighter. “Ever been arrested?”

“No?”

“That’s good. This won’t feel like something you’re used to, then.” He grins, and Felix cannot suppress a chuckle, his chest feeling that little lighter as Sylvain sits back down. “Hold out your hands.”

His voice hasn’t changed much. An edge of firmness, perhaps even authority, that Felix swears hadn’t been there previously. He nods slowly, no thought in his mind other than to follow through.

The metal is cool against his wrist as one cuff is secured around it. The second is soon to follow. Sylvain doesn’t let go of his wrists right away, but rather runs his thumbs over the cuffs. Eyes tracing them with a slightly tilted head, before that gaze flickers up to Felix’s.

Shit.

“Fine?” Slightly quieter.

“Yes.” Almost breathless.

“I want you to think about how you feel right now. To bring your thoughts away from anything that’s bothering you, any worries, and simply think about what it’s like to have these restrained. All right?”

“Sure.” It’s not as though Felix could focus on anything, or anyone, else at the moment. Sylvain’s hands stroke lightly down his bare forearms, warm against his skin, before he’s guiding Felix to bring his hands down in front of him.

“How does it feel if you tug on them?”

“Tug? Like this?” He does as such. They’re secure, all right. “I’m not sure I get why …” He notices how Sylvain has edged a little closer. Hands on the sofa either side of Felix. The true realisation that his own hands aren’t free like Sylvain’s, that it’s not in his power to release them, hits him.

“The idea of restraints is to let you lose some of your control. Many enjoy the feeling of helplessness. Do you feel that yourself: being more helpless than before?” Felix nods, unsure of when his breaths grew sharper. “Do you like that feeling, or are you uncomfortable?”

“I do. Like it, I mean.”

A smile. “Are you fine for me to touch you? Nowhere but your skin.”

“Go ahead.”

Sylvain gives Felix’s hands a squeeze before his touch trails up Felix’s arms. Little by little, up to his shoulders. Felix isn’t sure why, but he lets out a quiet sigh as these hands run down his waist. He’s not used to feeling so much from a simple touch. Sylvain’s fingers are only light, merely treading over Felix’s clothing, but it’s as though they’re reaching straight inside him.

It’s not simply being in the present, despite how that in itself is an achievement for him; Felix finds himself captivated by those eyes on his, the fingertips brushing over the curve of his waist to his hips.

“Tell me if you feel uncomfortable,” says Sylvain. He waits for Felix’s nod before he takes hold of Felix’s arms once again. This time, he lifts them, pushing them down along with Felix so they rest above his head on the sofa, his eyes blinking up at Sylvain above him.

His heart misses a beat. Feels himself growing warmer, anticipation rising. And Sylvain knows, if the slight smirk on his face is anything to go by.

“What are you thinking of?” asks Sylvain. His fingertips slip beneath Felix’s T-shirt, the latter inhaling sharply.

“How … how good this feels.”

“Completely in the moment, aren’t you?” Those hands tread up either side of Felix’s waist, electrifying. “Good. And, judging by that blush, you’re also turned on.”

“I’m not blushing.” Although he must be, now he thinks about it; he simply assumed he was warm everywhere, but he can feel how it concentrates in his cheeks.

“Mm, sure.” Sylvain grins, before his eyes flicker down. “May I fold your shirt up?”

“Do you usually ask for everything?”

“No. In fact, I issue authority by telling, not asking, once everything has been established. But you’re new to this.”

Felix had said that to tease, but those words have headed straight to what he knows is an increasing erection. His legs press together to try and conceal any evidence. “It’s fine.”

Sylvain lifts Felix’s shirt. Thumbs caress in circles over his skin; Felix shivers when Sylvain does this over his hip bones. “Do you know how beautiful you are, Felix?”

“Runs in the Fraldarius genes.” His voice is softer despite the sass in his response. The slight huskiness to Sylvain’s tone, the eyes piercing through Felix’s, give those words far more depth than when he has heard them from anyone else.

“Even so, I consider myself lucky to have the opportunity to do this, instead of someone else.” Sylvain’s palms run over Felix’s arms, pushing the cuffed wrists into the sofa. Felix can do nothing but stare, because _Goddess,_ it shouldn’t be possible to be this aroused over nothing at all, to feel so captivated with his mind on little else. “I think we’ve learned a lot today, Felix.”

“Yeah.” He can hardly breathe. “Maybe.”

Sylvain smiles again. For a moment, Felix wonders if the lust he can see in those eyes will lead to something else, if Sylvain cannot quite hold himself back after all. But he’s soon brought up by his arms. He’s almost disappointed to see Sylvain reaching for a key, although relieved all at once. He’s overwhelmed enough as it is to find his attraction this high from these mere touches.

And being restrained. How is it possible to _like_ that so much?

“How are you now?” asks Sylvain as he unlocks the cuffs. “Nothing you’re scared of?”

Felix shakes his head. “I’m fine, I just … didn’t expect me to feel _that_ much. Over something so simple, I mean.”

“It’s good to test the waters with what you’re comfortable with and turns you on. And, apparently, all of this is doing exactly that. Looks like you’re in the right place.”

Felix can only hum, watching as Sylvain places the handcuffs down on the table nearby. “What’s next?” he finds himself asking.

“That eager, are you?”

“Shut it.”

A slightly raised eyebrow has Felix swallowing, even when teamed with an amused smile. Goddamnit, that dominant persona of Sylvain’s never stops radiating off him. “I’d like to explore this a little more. How do you feel about testing the waters slightly more sexually? Nothing too heavy. And if you’d rather try anything sexual out without kinks too, just so you have a feel for everything with me, that’s fine too.”

“No, it’s fine.” As much as Felix wouldn’t say no to them doing more, he should at least attempt to be reserved if Sylvain could manage handcuffing Felix, only to not even touch his ass or something. “We can try that.”

“Awesome. I’ll be busy for a little while, but let’s keep in touch.” The pair gets to their feet, Sylvain’s hands in his pockets as he smiles. “You know, I meant what I said too, about me being lucky that I’m the one who gets to do this with you. I’m glad you asked for me after all.”

Felix is too, considering he struggles to picture delving into this much vulnerability with anyone else. He cannot stop his eyes flickering to those hands of Sylvain’s, wondering how much he will be able to trust them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! The last scene here is personally one of my favourites, and I hope you enjoyed it too. Feedback is always appreciated!


	6. Captivation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Felix has the chance to see what Sylvain is capable of, and experiences a little more himself.

Ever since Felix looked on Sylvain’s website, introducing him to a world he never fully considered, it has piqued his interest. His desire to learn more has increased drastically, if he compares himself now to how he was months ago. The basic knowledge behind it all is concrete; now, his curiosity, his desires, are based on wanting to experience it for _himself._

Of course, that is what helped start all of this. But it’s beginning to run deeper. He wants to understand the full extent of why someone would put themselves in a state of vulnerability. He wants to know what Sylvain means when he mentions how it’s simpler than merely being turned on, many people seeking the rush which comes after. Felix wants to experience that high. He wants to know how people can feel freedom, even whilst in a place seemingly not free at all.

Unfortunately, lives are unpredictable, and both of their schedules sometimes clash. Sylvain is constantly busy. Felix has had luck landing a few more interviews lately, which drain him too much to think about doing anything, except to head home and play video games. Despite being unable to continue with Sylvain’s teaching, however, this doesn’t mean they haven’t seen each other at all during this time.

Felix finds himself deviating from his usual spots to visit _Sensations_ instead. So much so that the odd person is recognising him, members of staff smiling, knowing that he is friends with Sylvain. _Friends._ It’s an odd word to describe the relationship Felix has with Sylvain, someone who’s introducing him to the world of BDSM, but with how friendly they are, how much they also talk about things away from this topic, that’s the only way to describe their relationship. It’s enjoyable to have time to spend together when their sessions have been stagnant for a little while, and Felix understands Sylvain needing to prioritise paid work and education over his private sessions with him.

Having some time away from each other isn’t necessarily a negative thing, either. It gives Felix chance to research at his own pace. This only increases his anticipation, although he knows he has to be steady.

“As wonderful as you are and how much I enjoy your company, I’ve just been crazy busy,” Sylvain says one day. “It’s killing me to wait, but I’ll be over this schedule soon. Get tomorrow’s scene out of the way, actually, then I’m free for a while!”

Felix’s ears prick upon hearing those words: _tomorrow’s scene._ He has visited _Sensations_ on nights where the kinkier aspects of the club come out. Dancers tied up in cages, some pets on leashes around, a generally sexual atmosphere in the air. That's enough for Felix, surprisingly vanilla all this time, to feel flushed. But it hasn’t exactly shocked him to see it. Would expect it, even, when in this environment.

A scene is something he has yet to witness. It’s not as though he can trust videos online, despite how he wants to see this in action, when pornography is hardly a trusted source. He’s unsure if it’s ideal to watch this in person before he himself has experienced more, but his curiosity and temptations are rising. He wants to see what Sylvain potentially has in store for him.

There is something in Sylvain’s eyes which tells Felix that his curiosity is obvious. He isn’t told to stay away which, in Felix’s opinion, means Sylvain doesn’t believe this is something he cannot handle. If this was a particular heavier scene, something that would overwhelm him, he strongly believes Sylvain would stop him from attending immediately.

But he doesn’t. All he has are those knowing eyes, and a smirk on his face, which allows Felix to reach his decision.

* * *

  
  


As expected, Felix isn’t guided to the nightclub’s usual main space, and he’s once again reminded of how loaded Sylvain must be. As frustrating as it is and how jealousy resides in Felix, he finds a sense of admiration as well, understanding how hard Sylvain works to keep all this afloat.

Felix finds himself in a room on the lower floor. A dungeon, he knows they’re called. It’s dimly lit to set the mood. He becomes initially concerned over alcohol being served, knowing partaking in BDSM isn't ideal when intoxicated, although he soon realises that this isn’t quite the place where everyone will be having sex with each other on the floor; Felix doesn’t doubt for a moment that orgies are something Sylvain is familiar with, but here, the enjoyment lies in watching. As it would seem as they wait.

He’s never thought of himself as an exhibitionist. Neither with watching others, nor for himself. A single partner seeing him in a vulnerable state is bad enough. Even with that sole person, he has always struggled to allow himself to lose control, despite how he’s likely desired it for a long time. Pushing them down, riding them, has simply been so much _easier._ The thought of both losing that control and having others witness that is terrifying to him.

It’s always been closed off from everything else. So this is certainly a step out of his comfort zone, despite _him_ being the one who is watching, as it seems to be for a few here; whilst many look as though this is part of a normal day for them, there are a few who appear slightly nervous, likely also delving into this world with less experience as well. It’s comforting, in a sense, to know he is not alone.

He’s not sure whether his nervousness diminishes or spikes when Sylvain enters the scene. Can think of little, say and do nothing, except inhale a deep breath.

Sylvain is shirtless, for one thing. Which is enchanting enough as it is. Somehow, among the stupidly long list of things he gets involved in, working out is also a priority. He’s big. _Huge,_ even, or perhaps that is merely Felix’s eyes and their homosexual filter. Sylvain could throw him across a room. Felix would probably ask for that.

But as usual, Sylvain’s attractiveness isn’t merely from that. He carries himself in a way that causes Felix’s mouth to grow dry. A natural confidence, as though he owns the room without forcing it for a moment. His hair … _Goddess,_ that gorgeous, bright red hair is as casual as always, but the section slicked back behind his ear seems to have purpose. It’s all normalcy to Sylvain, and he knows exactly what he is doing.

He must, if the leather trousers and matching gloves are anything to go by. Those gloves … They’re now reaching towards a woman who Felix hasn’t even noticed. Understandably so, really, even if she herself is beautiful, and he imagines it’s difficult to tear eyes away from the black lingerie she wears.

Felix is staring at the expression on Sylvain’s face instead. How he smiles, leaning in to murmur something in her ear. Felix finds himself shivering, as though that breath was against him instead. The image of Sylvain’s hands on him, whilst his own were cuffed, returns to mind.

He’s soon distracted. Previously, he didn’t take full note of the chains across the ceiling, perhaps because there are restraints elsewhere, and he took it all in as a whole as opposed to spotting individual aspects. His eyes are now fixed on the metal cuffs Sylvain reaches for.

It’s mesmerising to watch him attach those cuffs to the woman’s wrists. How she struggles, but in such a controlled, meaningful way that even Felix, unaccustomed to struggling meaning anything but, “ _Stop, stop right now, I need to get out of here,”_ knows it’s purely for show.

For the audience watching her? Her Dominant, or her own arousal? Perhaps it’s all of the above.

Those gloved hands trail up either side of her waist whilst Sylvain stands behind her. Smoothing over the curve of her breasts, up to her throat; tilting her head back, peering down at her face with a smirk that makes Felix hold his breath.

He swears he might choke on that air when Sylvain takes a blindfold from his pocket and secures it over her eyes.

“Say it.” Surprisingly quiet words. There's an edge of _something_ in them, however; a sense of authority, of ownership _._

“Punish me, Master.”

 _Master._ Shit. Felix’s leg sits on top of the other, ready to hide the erection he knows will be haunting him before long. Sylvain has mentioned that title. It’s simply much different to hear it, for Sylvain to respond with a squeeze of her throat, his other hand stroking down her body. It reaches behind her, squeezes an ass cheek. Her moan is interrupted by a gasp as it spanks her.

Sylvain steps away. He turns around, reaching to the wall behind him. Felix is hit with the realisation that toys used for impact play are among the displayed restraints, hidden in shadows cast by the dim lights.

A paddle is in Sylvain’s hand. Its black handle blends into his glove. Felix cannot describe it, doesn’t know for sure why or how he feels this way, but it fits perfectly in Sylvain’s grasp. Every movement is natural, purposeful. How the paddle is stroked lightly up her backside. Teasing. She squirms, and this time, Felix knows it’s an involuntary reaction aside from merely for show.

The way she says, “ _Please,”_ sends a chill down Felix’s spine. Fingers press to his lips, wondering if he too would have the pride to _beg_ to be punished.

He would have to squirm as well, if he was in her position. The paddle doesn’t yet collide. It slips between her legs, teasing at her arousal. She moans again, legs squirming together as the paddle strokes back over her backside. More begging.

And it hits. Finally, as Felix is practically on the edge of his seat, as desperate as _she_ is, there’s a sound echoing in the room blending in with her cry. His heart stops. Sylvain doesn’t rush it. Every single hit is measured, planned, his other hand never left unforgotten as it holds her, caresses her; skilled mouth against her neck, biting at her shoulder.

It’s … an art, is the first coherent thought that pops to mind. He might have less knowledge compared to others here. But there’s something about the way Sylvain moves so flawlessly, how he clearly has the utmost faith and talent in what he does, that makes ‘artistic’ the perfect way to describe it.

Felix thinks back to the characteristics that make Sylvain a creative person. He can see that come to play here, beneath the dim lights and in the rattling, polished chains.

It’s nerve-wracking. There’s still a part of Felix wondering how all of this has even happened. But above all, he’s thrilled, he’s fascinated, and there is a repeated thought in his mind: _I want that to be me._

His eyes cannot tear away for a moment. Every touch along her skin, her quivers and how she bucks herself back into Sylvain. The lust-driven eyes of the latter. Muscles flexing as he uses those dependable hands, his lips, his teeth, fingers that work at her as though she’s an instrument he’s playing.

Something else that screams at Felix is how much trust there is. More trust than Felix has ever felt when he’s been intimate with another. No, intimacy seems to be too much praise for what he has experienced. Years of skill, care, are in those gloved hands. Felix knows they are controlled by discussions on safety, of limits, learning each other’s wants and needs.

Perhaps that is what is most captivating of all. So much so that combined with everything else, the words exchanged are almost distant, he’s both there and far away as though experiencing a dream. Focused yet distracted, whilst his mind conjures images of him being in her place.

There is one thing that stands out within those images: how he swears Sylvain meets his eyes at some point. Fleeting, Felix uncertain if it happened at all, yet knowing that gaze will drive him crazy when he tries to sleep tonight.

  
  


* * *

  
  


When the session ends, Sylvain leaves with the woman. Felix imagines it’s to give her aftercare. Sylvain has told him the importance of this, how dangerous it is to not issue it, and how there are untrustworthy members of the community who will host these sessions and not tend to the submissive afterwards. It’s clear how important it is to Sylvain for him to follow every measure he must take.

Felix exhales deeply once he’s outside at last. He smiles at Ingrid, as awkward as ever that they met again in a place like this. Still, she chose to work for a BDSM club when there are so many ordinary clubs over the country, so she would probably deem herself hypocritical if she were to judge.

And she’s simply overjoyed to see him again. “Get home safe tonight, all right?” she says. “And be quick; it’s supposed to rain.”

“Thought I felt something in the air. You too.”

She smiles, before her attention is brought to someone entering the club. Felix leans back against a wall. Another deep breath, needing a moment to bring himself back down even if there’s a warning of rain, and the heat in his pants hasn’t fully subsided yet.

His head lifts to the sky and welcomes the first, gentle drop of rain on his face. It’s satisfyingly cool, which suggests his cheeks are still burning.

“I was curious if you’d come or not.”

Felix jumps slightly over the unexpected voice. His head swivels around to Sylvain who, thankfully, is no longer shirtless. Although the crimson shirt he _does_ wear still has a few buttons left undone to show off his chest. Felix swallows, attempting to keep his eyes on Sylvain’s face only.

Not that this is any easier, with those knowing eyes that always seem to observe, and those handsome, chiselled features that leave Felix’s stomach in knots.

“I thought I should have a look at what you can do,” says Felix. “See if it scares me off.”

“And did it?”

“You tell me.”

A grin. Sylvain’s arm leans on the wall. Not above Felix, but still close enough that his heart beats that little faster. “Good job it was still fairly gentle.”

Felix expected as much, although hearing it is still something else. “It really was, huh?”

“Yep. Granted, sessions of that degree are most common, but I can do more.”

“I see.” _Please, if the Goddess above is listening, let me not get another damn boner._ “Well, I’m not scared either way. You know what you’re doing, and spend all your time making sure I’m not delving into too much, too quickly.”

“For sure. Granted, the thought of doing more is alluring, but we’ll take it one step at a time.” Sylvain’s eyes, for a second that could easily go unnoticed, flicker up and down Felix’s body. “Did you enjoy yourself?”

“Yes.” Instant answer, despite how Felix would have loved a witty response. There’s something about those eyes. The way Sylvain’s smile grows that little more.

“Anything in particular?”

“… Everything, I suppose. It was kind of a blur.” A pause, before he adds, “Is she fine?”

“Oh, yeah. She’s fantastic. You’ll understand why eventually.”

“Right. Can I see you tomorrow?”

The question is blurted out before Felix can even consider it. Then again, what else would he ask, when the two have already discussed meeting once Sylvain’s schedule has calmed down? Perhaps not so immediately, but … Felix may burst if he cannot feel those hands again.

“Certainly, kitten. As long as you’re not forcing yourself.” Sylvain smiles, his expression softening. “I know it was probably a lot to take in today, despite how it’s all stuff you’ve known of before. I don’t want you to feel as though we’ll be rushing into anything like that.”

Felix almost doesn’t listen to all of this; his mind is honing in on _kitten._ He shakes his head, however, both physically and mentally. “I know we wouldn’t do anything like that, yet. It’s okay. It just has me wanting to move onto something else.”

“In that case, I’m free all day, so just message me when you want to come on over.”

“Awesome. Will do.” Felix swallows, still almost choking on his words. “And, uh, thanks again for doing this. Taking time out of your schedule for me, I mean.”

“The pleasure is mine. And I think I’m going to let myself take it easier around my birthday soon, just so I don’t get burned out, so we’ll have all the time in the world.” Sylvain lets out a gentle sigh. “What better gift, too, than to have the opportunity to play with someone like you?”

“Enough with the flirting.” Even so, there’s a smile tugging at Felix’s lips. “I should head home. I’ll be seeing you.”

“Get home safe.” A hand brushes against Felix’s shoulder, before Sylvain heads back the way he came, waving to Ingrid outside the building.

There’s a strange, fluttery feeling inside Felix’s stomach, and he wonders if that is a part of being properly attracted to someone.

  
  


* * *

  
  


His dreams that night are unclear. Misty, blurred around the edges, difficult to hone in on anything in particular. He can perceive it, however. Perhaps as intensely as he can in real life. His mind fills in the gaps of what he hasn’t been able to experience.

The smooth metal of cuffs around suspended wrists. The collision of a paddle against his backside. He cannot say what they feel like for certain, but it’s enough to moan within those dreams. To squirm beneath the lips against his neck. Unclear, yes, and a desire for the images to be crisper. But enough for him to be absolutely intoxicated.

He wakes too soon, but not before he hears Sylvain’s whisper of, “ _Beg for me, kitten,”_ with hot breaths against his ear.

Of course, he’s breathless whilst he simply lays there, comprehending what has happened as his grogginess fades little by little. He grumbles when he notices that, once again, he’s plagued by an erection. Starting the day with masturbating is hardly his style, but never has he woken so aroused, either.

It takes everything he has to not ask Sylvain if he can arrive there by 9:00am. He holds off the message, as though he’s not desperate and longing from the moment he wakes, finally letting himself do so when preparing lunch.

The reply of, _'Awesome. I’ll look forward to seeing you! x'_ brings a smile to his face. Among all the excitement and thrill on what is to come, it genuinely is simply enjoyable to see Sylvain himself, even if it’s rather awkward for Felix to admit.

He manages to only get caught in light rain on his way to the club. Today, the sound of a piano doesn’t greet him, but rather something else that is almost as beautiful: Sylvain’s laugh echoing in the spacious, clear room.

“Goddess, he can be so adorable … I’m sure your little girl will be able to overcome a bruised knee quickly.”

As he descends the stairs, Felix sees who Sylvain is speaking to. A tall, broad man is currently chuckling, although there must be something on his face that causes Sylvain to sigh.

“You’re just as worried as Dimitri, aren’t you? She didn’t _break_ her knee, it was just a bruise! Although I guess I’d be the same if I had a daughter … Ah, Felix!” Felix’s talent of quietening his footsteps causes Sylvain to not notice him until he is closer. “Nice to see you. You’ve not met Dedue yet, right?”

“No, not yet.” Felix accepts the large hand held out to him. “As you heard, I’m Felix. It’s a pleasure.”

“As it is to meet you,” says Dedue, a warm, kind smile on his face. His voice is soothing in contrast to his strong features. “I am the head chef here.”

“Oh, that is you? Your food is excellent.”

“Thank you. I have been working on a menu combining my homeland’s food with that of Faerghus.” He turns his head to Sylvain. “Speaking of, I will start preparing today’s selections. As for you, are you finally letting yourself relax?”

“Yeah, I promise! Don’t worry about me.”

Dedue smiles, nodding to Felix as well before taking his leave.

“Seems as though people think you overwork yourself, sometimes,” says Felix. Sylvain grins, scratching the back of his head.

“Yeah. Funny, because not that long ago, I was a bit more lax about everything. Guess working through some stuff and exploring my passions has helped a lot.”

“Doing what you love and all that?”

“Precisely.” Sylvain gives Felix a charming smile, before the two head inside the elevator. “How have you been getting on with that? Job searching, I mean.”

With a hum, Felix says, “Searching is the easy part. It’s having the interviews lead anywhere that’s difficult. But I think every time one isn’t fruitful, I have a better idea on what to do next time, and I can brush up on my resume more. So that’s good.”

“Keeping my fingers crossed for you. I’d love to offer you a job here, as we could do with more bar staff, but I’m always hesitant to have that power over those I do this with.” Sylvain rubs the back of his neck. “Don’t want them to feel trapped financially, and like they have to lie about being comfortable with me in order to keep a salary, you know?”

“I understand, and I see exactly what you mean,” says Felix, the two now walking towards Sylvain’s room. “Not to worry, anyway. Annette works in a bakery that might need temporary staff when someone goes on maternity leave, so if I could get that, it’d put me on for a while.” He then adds, as an afterthought, “As much as I usually dislike sweet things.”

Sylvain laughs. “Always bread, I guess. And maybe you’ve just not found quality sweets yet. Dedue, I swear … Where would I be without that man?”

The pair leaves their shoes to one side, also removing their jackets. This time, Sylvain’s casual wear consists of a tank top instead, and Felix finds himself attracted to some goddamn shoulders. He has a sudden fascination with the chandelier on the ceiling when Sylvain’s own gaze lands on him.

“Must be a pain to clean,” he says, kicking himself the moment he finishes that sentence, because how can he be so awkward that he has to make a comment about a chandelier? Most especially when he’s not unfamiliar with men’s bodies.

If Sylvain finds it amusing, he doesn’t comment. “Goddess, yeah. I told you that I clean this place myself, right? I don’t like messy spaces, but … Kinda annoying that I need to stand on something to see what I’m doing.” He pauses, before grinning as he adds, “Suppose you’re probably used to that, though.”

He laughs again as Felix scowls, giving him a small push. “It’s not my fault that the average height of Foldlan’s men is way too big.”

“Still, still … Come on, let’s sit down.”

The moment they do so, Felix finds nerves creeping back in, questions dancing on the tip of his tongue. “So … last time, you said about making this a bit more sexual.”

“That’s right. Nothing too heavy, though."

“So, not sex?” Felix lets out an awkward chuckle. “I sound like I’ve never done anything sexual before. I just—”

“Wondering if going ‘all the way’ would be a lot?"

Felix hums. “See, it’s not like I’ve never had my hands tied during sex before. But it was way different than this. Less structured, just something that happened in the heat of the moment. I’m not used to the emotional aspect.” His fingernails pick at each other. “Is it emotional? Can I call it that?”

“Absolutely. And you’re right. A regular couple simply adding some restraints for fun, is a lot different than the dynamic we aim for in the community, with full dominance and submission. It _is_ an emotional investment. It takes a lot of strength to delve into this, way more than just letting a vanilla partner tie your wrists with a scarf while you’re both giggling.” A hand reaches for Felix’s knee, giving it a gentle squeeze. “It’s normal to be cautious. I’m glad you are, actually. It gives me faith that you’re honest about what you can and can’t handle. Anyway—back to your first question, yes, I want to stay away from anything too deep. I’m concerned you might end up overwhelmed and unable to tell me to stop.”

“I understand.” And truth be told, even if his desires run deep enough for him to want Sylvain to take him over completely, if his dreams are anything to go by with how much he wants all of this, he’s not ready. Not for everything.

He feels almost weak, that the vulnerability he needs to portray scares him. But those reassuring eyes convince him otherwise. He remembers all that has been said to him so far, about how there’s nothing wrong with his desires.

“Now, Felix.” A hand treads up his thigh, giving a squeeze. Felix shivers. “Look at my eyes.” He does so, and swears he could shiver again. “Last time, we only tried restraining you above all else. But there was something I noticed. Can you guess what that is?”

“Wouldn’t take a genius to know that I was turned on.”

A smirk tugs at Sylvain’s lips as he lifts an eyebrow. He reaches for Felix’s face, tucking strands of hair behind his ear. “There’s a reason for that. I could sense your desire to submit. And today,” Sylvain’s hand rests on Felix’s chin, tilting it up, “I want to see how much that comes out.”

Felix’s mouth is open with the plan to retort. He finds nothing escaping it. No reaction at all, other than shuffling so he faces Sylvain that little more. Once again under a spell by those eyes. 

His heart pounds over how _easy_ it is to fall into that. How when Sylvain’s thumb presses his bottom lip, he responds with his tongue licking over it without a second thought.

Sylvain’s smile grows. “That’s a good boy,” he says. Felix isn’t sure if it’s those words or the thumb that slips into his mouth which sends arousal straight between his legs. Either way, he moans. _Moans._ Quietly, yes, but still a moan nonetheless, over something so simple. “Goodness. You’re beautiful, Felix.”

The thumb leaves his mouth, Sylvain wiping it on a tissue. Felix inhales sharply, saying, “Been told that before, like I said."

“I’m sure you have.” Hands are on either side of his face, keeping it lifted to Sylvain. “Yet I’m also sure that there’s going to be many things you haven’t heard, as well.”

Felix’s eyes flick between Sylvain’s own and the lips that have edged closer. Even this act of teasing seems to be an art; the knowing grin on his face over the mere inches separating them.

“Kiss me,” says Felix. It’s a given when they’re growing more intimate with one another. Never has he anticipated the feel of another’s lips to this extent, nor has his eyes ever grown so wide when he’s greeted with a kiss.

They soon close, because _shit,_ Sylvain has some incredible lips. So gentle yet rough at once. An almost steady start, a chance for Felix to relax beneath him, before he takes full advantage. A bite of Felix’s lip before a tongue into his mouth follows. Felix hums in response, shuffling closer, hands holding onto Sylvain’s shoulders.

Sylvain parts, only for a moment to say, “Wow.” Because perhaps it’s not only Felix who finds this kiss so _electrifying._ At the risk of seeming cliché, he would even say there’s … a spark, of some kind. Certainly nothing he has ever experienced before.

Perhaps it’s because he’s slipping into a headspace he’s not sure he ever knew existed. Perhaps it’s because he’s simply so desperate to feel something, for once. Either way, when Sylvain kisses him again, he loses himself in it with a soft moan against Sylvain’s tongue.

His arms have wrapped around Sylvain’s neck. Pushing himself that little closer, almost settling himself in Sylvain’s lap. Fingers tangle in his hair. Not tightly, not enough to hurt, but enough to keep his head in place. His other hand runs along Felix’s lower back.

 _Goddess._ Not low enough. Certainly not low enough. Felix rises up a little, hoping for Sylvain to get the message. He does. Of course this apparent sex expert, who is the greatest kisser Felix has ever known, is aware of Felix’s desires; that hand trails down and squeezes at his backside.

Sylvain’s lips part from Felix; the latter wonders how he can be so breathless. “You truly are lovely, kitten. And how desperate you must be, if you’re practically in my lap," he teases.

“Don’t go bigging yourself up so much.”

A small chuckle. Felix cannot pinpoint why it sends a chill down his spine. “Now, now. We won’t be going into discipline yet, but maybe watch your tongue a little.”

Felix’s mind searches for a response. One is on the tip of his tongue, although he’s quick to find himself distracted by Sylvain reaching for a box beneath the coffee table. He pulls out a length of black rope, and Felix swallows.

“You’re using that?” Stupid question that deserves a stupid answer, but Sylvain smiles normally.

“Only your wrists again. But it’s a lengthier process than handcuffs, a little more restrictive. Plus, a good chance to teach you a bit about safety.”

“Sounds good.” Excellent, even, if the increasing heat in his pants is anything to go by. “But this time, can you try tying them behind my back instead?”

“That’d be fine with you?” Sylvain’s eyebrows rise. “It takes a lot more trust to allow me to do that.”

“I know. And I’m nervous. But I have a good roundhouse kick, you know, and I’m probably flexible enough to get my hands in front of myself.” Even as he says it, he knows none of this will have to apply here. He still doesn’t trust Sylvain completely, but he does so more than anyone else he has been intimate with. “I’m just curious about how it feels. I imagine it’s a lot different than them being tied in front.”

“Certainly. An extra degree of helplessness.”

“Guess that’s one way to put it.” His voice drops to nearly a mumble. Embarrassed, but unable to tear his dropped eyes away from the rope in Sylvain’s hands.

"At this point, words that indicate me to stop aren't going to be in our play," says Sylvain. "But to be careful and have something snappy, let's have a safeword."

Another new thing to Felix. "Uh, sure. What should it be?"

"Something that you wouldn't say otherwise. Preferably short, no more than a couple of syllables, so you can say it easily."

Despite how Felix has never had to think of this before, a word arrives quickly. "I'll go for Glenn."

“Glenn it is. Turn around for me.” Felix nods, doing exactly that. Thankful, even, for a chance to look away from Sylvain. “Put your hands behind your back.”

Felix cannot help but notice that despite Sylvain still asking questions, he’s beginning to do so a little less than before. It certainly has a different impact— _telling_ Felix to do something, as opposed to asking him. He obeys either way, a little curious when he feels Sylvain run his thumbs over both hands.

“You have to be more careful with ropes, considering they’re tighter against the skin,” comes the explanation. “It’s good for me to check the temperature of your hands and how they look, to see if there are any changes later on. For you, best to monitor how they feel. If they start to tingle, or already do so now and end up intensifying, you ought to tell me. Okay?”

“Okay. How often does that happen?”

“It’s rare, especially as I’ve learned how to do this properly. But it’s always best to be cautious.”

The rope is softer than Felix imagined. As it should, when it’s designed for play like this. He supposes he’s never considered what bondage rope would feel like. Sylvain loops it around both wrists. Loose, until Felix feels it tug between them, the force of Sylvain soon securing some kind of knot.

“Okay so far?” he asks. Felix hums.

“Could probably escape this.”

“That’s why I’m not done.” Truly, he isn’t; Felix can feel him continue to work at the ropes. He cannot say what Sylvain is doing, exactly. All he knows is that he doesn’t actually feel anything tighten on the wrists.

“Does most of the restriction come from between my wrists? Not on them?”

“That’s right. I need to be able to slip two fingers beneath it, like this.” Sylvain’s fingertips tread beneath the ropes. “It shouldn’t be uncomfortable nor painful. Naturally, though, your hands shouldn’t be able to slip through. Try tugging on them.”

Felix does precisely this. It’s _miles_ different than the handcuffs. To the casual, playful tying he’s experienced before, even—when he knew he could break free should he try hard enough. It’s the first time he has fully been at Sylvain’s mercy. The realisation dawns on him quickly, and he finds his breath shortening.

From arousal, nerves, fear. He cannot say. His eyes look up when Sylvain guides him around so they’re facing each other.

“Breathe,” says Sylvain. “I can free you at any point. Do you need me to do that now?”

“I think … I think it’s okay.” Felix fidgets with the ropes again with the slightest bite of his lip. “I’ve never been like this. Not to this extent.”

“Vulnerable?”

Felix hums. “Usually I’m scared of being that around anyone. Guess you’re special.”

“I truly appreciate you putting faith in me.” Sylvain’s hands reach for Felix’s face. Not to pull him in for a kiss; he simply strokes gentle fingertips across Felix's cheeks. Patient touches. “I won’t do anything you’re not comfortable with. And if there are any fears you have, tell me.”

If this was with anyone else, there’d be a thousand. He can’t defend himself like this. Not properly, at least. It’s an open invitation to be harmed, taken advantage of. He’s had to be wary of this more times than he can count.

But there’s no harmful intent behind those hands now running down to Felix’s shoulders, squeezing them gently in reassurance. There’s lust in Sylvain’s eyes. Likely the same in Felix’s own. But he’s waiting, understanding, listening. All the things no one else has ever done.

“I think there’s only one thing right now,” says Felix, “and that’s how I’m enjoying this.”

“Why does that scare you?”

He swallows, his chest tight. “It’s—it’s the same stupid stuff as usual. I feel like I can’t be this way. I’ve spent so much time being strong, not wanting to be beneath others, that the thought of letting all that go—”

“You’re not letting any of that go,” Sylvain interrupts gently. “That’s all still you. You’re allowed to be that and more, while also enjoying this. There’s no harm in putting yourself in someone’s hands.”

“All that’s done up until now _is_ cause harm.”

“Then I’ll be the exception.”

There’s no argument against that. Doubts still nag somewhere in his mind, fear mingling in with desire, but it’s not so strong that he cannot give in, even if only a little. He exhales a deep breath. Forces himself to even chuckle, before saying, “Getting therapy with my hands tied behind my back. That’s a new one.”

Sylvain laughs as well. Brighter, louder, and Felix has to stare. “Not trying to give you therapy. I’m just making sure you feel safe enough to continue.” His hands trail up and down Felix’s upper arms. “Nothing too major, remember? And we can stop at any time.”

“Yeah. I know.”

Sylvain smiles. His touch trails down either side of Felix’s waist. Over his T-shirt, seeming to give him that little longer to breathe. It presses through the material over his chest. Up either side of Felix’s neck, to his face. A sigh from his lips that are soon met with Sylvain’s own.

If the kiss before had been out of this world, he cannot have a descriptor at all for how it feels now his hands are restrained. It’s like nothing else. To have Sylvain hungrily slide his tongue into Felix’s mouth, a hand at his ponytail and another exploring down his torso, as Felix himself cannot do anything but kiss back and squirm against those ropes—it shouldn’t be this incredible, but perhaps by now, he really shouldn’t be surprised anymore.

Sylvain’s hand treads up beneath his T-shirt. It’s slow, teasing, Felix trying to push himself closer. Wanting it to do _anything._ Wanting to demand, or beg, whichever is easiest, but Sylvain’s lips returning to his capture him.

They do soon part again, but Felix is so caught up in unexpected arousal that he can do little more than catch his breath. “Nothing against your chest being touched?” Sylvain asks.

“Against it? Anything but.”

He smiles. Fingers treading up to it, and stroking lightly over a nipple. Felix’s shivering doesn’t go unnoticed. “Ah, that’s why. You like it, don’t you?”

“Got any kinky ideas from that?”

A chuckle, Sylvain shrugging. “Maybe. But not for today. For now,” Felix bites his lip as Sylvain’s thumb rubs over it, “let’s just build you up to this, little by little.”

Their kiss soon rejoins. Slightly more vigorous, rougher, Sylvain’s fingertips continuing to stroke over Felix’s chest. Teasing touches. Felix grumbles into the kiss, able to do little but tug on the ropes binding his wrists. Sylvain’s other hand slides past Felix’s arms. Over his hips, squeezing at his backside.

Barely anything, in reality, but enough that Felix can feel himself trembling.

He’s also being pushed down. He allows it, back against the sofa, managing to not put force on his wrists. “Not hurting?” Sylvain still asks to confirm. Felix shakes his head. “Good. I’d like you to tell me how you’re feeling, Felix.”

‘Turned on’ is probably too vague, but the true extent of what he’s experiencing is almost too complex to voice. “It’s hard to explain. I’d say I’m a bit overwhelmed, but it’s mostly … a thrill.”

“A different kind of excitement, than what you’ve had before.”

“Yeah. And it’s like … I don’t know.” Felix breathes out as Sylvain’s hand strokes tenderly over the skin of his waist. So warm. Comforting, even without the use of his own hands. “It’s like I want to let go. A part of me wants to please you.”

“Please me?”

“I don’t know. It’s weird, because I’m not doing anything, am I?” Felix chuckles, almost nervously. “It’s like—I want to let you do this. And I don’t have the same level of restraint as I’ve had before, even if I’m not ready for all of it.”

“Felix.” A fond smile, amused, although Felix can tell it’s in an entirely friendly way. “That’s you beginning to submit.”

“Ah.” He swallows, a common sense of shame finding him. “Really didn’t know I had that in me. Who knew?”

“You did ask me to tie your wrists behind your back.”

“Yeah, but—that’s different. I don’t know.” Felix’s eyes avert to the side, wishing he had those hands right now to shield his face. “Why are you asking me all this instead of just … doing what you want?”

“I want you to understand how you’re feeling, and why you feel that way. This also isn’t all about what _I_ want. It’s about you as well.” Sylvain’s hand creeps a little further up Felix’s shirt. His smile returns over the hitched breath in response. “The whole reason you’re here, letting me do this to you, is because you want to let go of control. And it’s fine to want that.”

Felix hums. “I suppose. Is it strange that I worry there is simply a difference? Between wanting it and actually having these natural responses, I mean?”

“No. You’re still working through that shame, and I understand.” The thumb of Sylvain’s other hand gently strokes over Felix’s face. “You’re allowed to worry. However, I want you to be in the present. I want you to focus only on what you’re desiring right now. Can you do that?”

“I—yes. Probably.”

“Think about how those ropes are making you feel. Keep your eyes on mine, and let them tell me what it is you desire.”

Felix wills himself to properly meet Sylvain’s gaze. They’re as piercing as ever, warm brown that somehow burn with the intensity of fire. Sylvain’s hand slips further up. Trailing back over a nipple. His leg slips closer, between Felix’s. Lips against his neck.

Closer. His body closes in on Felix’s, that knee between his legs sliding forward. Felix’s hips buck towards it without thinking. He releases a noise that widens his eyes; a _whimper_ when that knee accidentally presses against his crotch from Felix's movements.

“Why did I—” He instinctively tries to reach for his mouth. Naturally cannot do so, resorting to his head falling to its side instead. “I’ve never sounded like that.”

“It’s all right.” Sylvain’s voice is quiet. Lustful, but etched heavily in care, tenderness. “Nothing you have to be embarrassed about.”

“Easy for you to say.”

“Do you need me to stop?”

Felix shakes his head. For as much as that sound has utterly embarrassed him, he’s not ashamed enough to want this to end. His eyes open as Sylvain guides his head back around. Close again as lips meet his.

The rest passes in blissful haziness. Kissing unlike he has ever known it before. Lips feeling so wonderful against his neck, collarbone. Hands up his T-shirt, continuing to touch, so surprisingly gentle despite what Felix knows they can do.

It all seems to build up in an instant. Felix’s eyes widening, squirming his legs, moaning as it only causes more friction.

“Goddess, I think I might—” His face utterly burns. “I don’t want to ruin my underwear, but I … Oh, _fuck.”_

“I can unbutton your trousers, if you’re comfortable with that?”

Felix nods. “I don’t—d-don’t think I can hold it back, I’m sorry.”

“No apologies needed.” Sylvain brings Felix back into a kiss. The latter is grateful to have something else to focus on other than Sylvain unfastening his trousers and tugging them down. As soon as his underwear follows, he's met with a _wonderful_ sense of freedom.

Sylvain doesn’t even touch him. But the tongue in his mouth, how one hand has trailed back up his chest, is somehow enough for him to find his release. And the _cry._ He’s usually quiet, holding it all back, but not now. Desperate, _too_ desperate, and panting as though this was the first time it’s ever happened.

“How did I even …?” Felix glances at Sylvain, humiliated the moment he sees that he’s stained the other’s shirt. “Oh, fuck, sorry. I don’t even know—how did that happen so easily?”

“It’s fine, it’s just an ordinary T-shirt.” Sylvain takes said shirt off; Felix is too caught up in his shame to appreciate this properly. “Let’s get you back up.”

Sylvain lifts Felix up by his arms. He’s glad to have his back to Sylvain, his face feeling as though it’s on fire. He still can’t believe it. How was this even possible?

“What am I, a teenager?” he ends up muttering.

“You do know that people _can_ orgasm without their genitalia being touched, don’t you?”

“I guess, but … you barely did _anything.”_

“You were overwhelmed, aroused by something you’re not used to. There’s no need to be ashamed of your bodily reactions being different than usual.” Sylvain finishes releasing Felix’s hands. “Give them a stretch. Do they feel okay?”

“Yeah, they’re fine.” Felix interlaces his fingers, stretching his arms out in front of him. He’s hesitant to turn a little to bring his eyes to Sylvain, but he must. “I—was that really normal?”

“Completely.”

“And there’s nothing wrong with me being turned on enough for that?” More words flood out of him, before he can think of stopping them. “I mean, it was only some _ropes,_ but I’ve never—I’ve never felt anything that before, and I—”

“Felix.” Sylvain’s voice is softer, reassuring. “Can I hug you?”

“What?” The question is so random, it catches him off guard, and he’s instantly wary. Apparently, whilst ropes are fine, hugging is something he’s more hesitant over. But a part of him also wants to say yes instantly. He’s probably going to have to get used to hugging anyway, what with aftercare likely being an aspect he requires in the future. “Uh, sure.”

Sylvain smiles, opening his arms and bringing Felix into a hug. Not too hard, not too light. Just … there, another body warm against his own, and arms that are … strangely comforting. And his spiralling thoughts seem to be easing. Huh.

Felix’s hands hover uselessly over Sylvain’s sides as his chin rests on the other’s shoulder. “I understand how it feels to not have anything sexual feel this good,” says Sylvain. “I really, really do. My reasons might be different, but for you, I imagine you’ve not slept with anyone who’s let you enjoy yourself properly.”

Felix is silent for a moment. His tongue licks around his lips, trying to remember if there was ever a time he felt like this. Or even had what he feels right now; fingers circling around his back. “… No. I haven’t.”

“Then I’m glad to help you along with this.” Sylvain’s smile returns. He backs away from the hug, Felix’s hand brushing against one of his arms as it leaves him. “And I like spending time with you. Be it tying you up or just talking.”

An amused smirk reaches Felix’s face. “Quite the charmer, aren’t you?”

“Absolutely. Care to join this charmer for dinner sometime?”

Nothing could have prepared Felix for those words. He blinks, staring, trying to process it. Dinner. Lovely in theory, confusing in reality, especially when he’s not even certain dinner dates are a thing in the community. _If_ it’s a date.

“Do you usually take those you’re teaching out to dinner?” he finally questions.

“Meals together are quite common in the community, you know. Great chance to chat and meet other people. But with _you—”_

“Is it a date?”

“If that’s fine with you.” Felix isn’t sure if he detests how naturally Sylvain is smiling, whilst Felix’s insides are in knots, or if he finds it attractive. “A thank you to such a gorgeous guy for indulging me.”

“Me, indulging _you?_ As though I’m the one giving free mentoring?” Felix’s amused smile returns, and he realises that his answer requires little debate. “Guess this is the classic, ‘at least take me out to dinner first.’ Only it’s that before you spank me.”

The roar of laughter Felix receives in return tells him exactly why he's saying yes.  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you as always for reading and for the comments on the last chapter! I hope you enjoyed this one, too. Until next week!
> 
> And until then, too, feel free to find me on Twitter @nikobynight.


	7. Blossoming Emotions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life is beginning to look up for Felix little by little, although the emotions he has over Sylvain are frightening nonetheless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had no electric sockets for 24 hours and, with the ability to use power banks on my phone, I somehow have been blessed with the chance to still give you this chapter. Hope you enjoy! It's a shorter, lighter one to break up the somewhat more intense chapters.

Life often hates Felix. It truly, truly does. Today, nightmares have plagued his sleep, he wakes in no small amount of pain and, to top it off, he has to text his landlord to tell them that the boiler currently isn’t working as well as it should. It’s all enough to bring on a bad mood. It mostly follows him only until late morning, however, when he finally receives some _better_ news: a message from Annette’s bakery, reminding him of an interview today.

Annette herself has been great at putting good words for him in the bakery. He imagines his regular visits and friendliness with the staff helps as well. Receiving this opportunity almost feels like cheating in comparison to his vigorous searching for work, although perhaps this is mostly his inability to feel as though he deserves anything.

When he arrives at the bakery, it only has a couple of customers, which makes Felix feel a little less awkward about speaking to the girl behind the cash register. “Hey, Lysithea. I’m here for the interview.”

“Oh, Felix!” says Lysithea. “Byleth will come to see you shortly. You know, I really do hope you get the job. It’d be the perfect chance for me to experiment my cakes on you and finally find something you love. _”_

“I’ve already found some sweets I like. It’s not too bad if they’re good quality.”

“Yes, _like._ I’m talking about you utterly, completely, adoring them.” Lysithea gestures for Felix to come round behind the counter; as he does so, the unmistakable head of ginger hair from Annette pops into view from the kitchen.

“Ah, Felix, hey! Glad you could make it. Byleth seems interested in having you, from what they’ve said so far.”

“Thanks for putting word in for me,” says Felix. “I appreciate it a lot.”

“No problem at all!”

“Better not hear you insulting sweet things in front of customers, though,” Lysithea says, directing a mocking glare at Felix, before she turns and greets someone browsing their goods.

“Oh, Felix, good afternoon.” Felix turns at the sound of Byleth’s voice; their smile, as always, is soothing, and he is smiling back immediately. “Come on through into the back, here.”

“Thank you for granting me this opportunity,” he says as the door shuts after them.

“Of course; you’ve been a valued support for us and your resume is promising. We’re also in quite the hurry.”

“No complications?” The reason for extra staff is Byleth’s maternity leave. Annette is taking over their managerial role, and in turn, they require someone to fill Annette’s current position.

“The child might be born a little early, but we’re keeping an eye on them, not to worry. I appreciate your concern.” Byleth straightens some pieces of paper on the table in front of them. “Now, there is one thing I have to ask before anything else. I’ve noticed you were released from your last job, which struck me as odd when there has been nothing but praise from your references.”

“One might consider it an unfair dismissal,” says Felix. He swallows, forcing his voice to remain steady. “I had to travel to attend my father’s funeral. They weren’t pleased with the time I needed off.”

Byleth’s brow furrows. “I’m deeply sorry to hear it.”

“It’s all right, but thank you.” Felix has to take a sip of water regardless, trying to ease his suddenly dry throat. “I’m afraid I was not in the right frame of mind to try and take action.”

“I understand completely. I assure you that I’m not judging you on that, and simply had to learn why this occurred. In that case, we can move onto the actual interview.”

The process is far less intimidating than he imagined to be—whether that’s because he feels as though he’s among friends rather than superiors, he doesn’t know. He’s still not the greatest at interviews. All bold appearances aside, he’s still, admittedly, socially awkward enough to struggle in situations like these. But he does so well he might even say he’s proud. Knowledge granted to him by Annette practically pours out of him, and he finds that he is encouraged by the thought of working by her side. His words on how he would love to work for them are not simply there to land a job.

Because of this, perhaps it shouldn’t be surprising when Byleth confirms that they will take him on at the end of the interview, although for someone like Felix, he still finds himself rather taken aback.

“It’d be lovely to have you,” says Byleth. “If possible, I’d like you to be here in a few days to show you the ropes. Paid, of course.”

“Of course. Thank you,” he says, holding out his hand for them to shake.

Annette only needs a single glance at Felix when he returns from the room to understand; she grins, giving his shoulder a pat. 

“Knew that you could do it,” she says. “Can’t wait to boss you around.”

“That’s right,” says Felix, having to hold in a groan. “I almost forgot you’re going to be my manager.”

“Heh heh heh!”

“Hey, Felix,” says Lysithea, currently shutting the cash register. “Some cinnamon spice cookies came out of the oven while you were in the interview. I bet you’d like them, so have one!”

“Oh, sure.”

“ _But_ you’re going to have to pay. You’re going to get enough free goodies when you start working here.”

“Then what kind of offer is that?” Regardless, Felix reaches for the wallet in his pocket to buy one. She hands him the cookie in a napkin; he takes a bite in front of the register, knowing from her eager expression that she wants to see his reaction right there and then.

“Oh.” Flavour bursts on his tongue; a flavour he _loves._ “All right, yeah. These are great.”

“Another victory over the fellow picky eater,” she says, earning a chuckle from Felix.

He decides to finish the cookie when sat down at a table. His other hand takes his phone out of his pocket. Annette, if she were not already here to listen, would be the first one to tell. Instead, he finds Sylvain’s contact.

**Felix**

_Good afternoon. I thought you’d like to know that I’ve ended up with a job in the bakery Annette works at. How about you take me out in the next couple of days, before my first shift?_

**Sylvain**

_Oh, that’s awesome! Congrats. I’m busy tomorrow, but the day after for certain x_

**Felix**

_Great. Still not paying despite this, mind you. You’re the one who asked, after all._

**Sylvain**

_Wouldn’t have made you pay for that very reason ;) I’ll look forward to it. And hey, should you ever need someone to taste test anything for you, I’m your guy x_

Felix cannot stop a smile, conveniently eating the rest of the cookie to hide it. 

**Felix**

_Not surprised. Take care of yourself today._

**Sylvain**

_You too, gorgeous. I know you probably feel pretty drained after the interview, so make sure you get home and rest x_

Huh. Not only is Felix touched by Sylvain understanding him enough to presume he would be affected by an interview, he finds himself … more inclined, in a sense, to look after himself when Sylvain guides him to. Which is quite different to how Felix often grows defensive when people try to do this.

“Texting a certain someone?” asks Annette, wiping down a table nearby. 

“I thought Sylvain would like to know, considering he knows I’ve been searching for a job,” says Felix. “He’s still paying when he takes me for dinner, mind you.”

She lets out a strange noise, as though unsure if to sigh or squeal. “Ugh, I still can’t get over him asking you out! Like, seriously! It’s so weird, considering all that he does, but … yeah. Guess that makes dinner even more special, huh?”

“I … I suppose. In a way.”

“Do you like him?” she asks in a teasing voice, laughing over Felix’s expression.

“What am I, a teenager? We get on. I’m interested in where this is leading to. Nothing more to it.”

“Sure, sure.”

He cannot stop a smile. Even with her teasing, he knows she means every bit of it in good nature, eyes bright with joy for her best friend. “I’ll be sure to see you and tell you how it goes. For now, I think I’m going to head on home.”

“Enough human interaction to last you for a week.” Annette starts cleaning the table Felix gets up from. “See you later, Fe. And well done on the job!”

As he steps outside, he thinks of how she's the one to thank for this chance, far from aware that his own strengths have led him here.

* * *

Felix is unsurprised that the restaurant planned for their date is one he has never been to. He hasn’t minded Sylvain choosing a place, even though he’d like it if it wasn’t so expensive; he would rather not eat a single salad leaf and cry inwardly, debating if it costs more than a full meal back home.

Sylvain had offered to give him a lift, his genuine kindness coming into play. Felix isn’t sure why he declined. It’s certainly not because sex in a car would be a _bad_ thing. Perhaps he’s simply anxious over the thought of bothering Sylvain.

He takes a bus to save the long walk through the city instead. A silly, embarrassing part of him is excited for this date, enough to try and not ruin the surprise of where they’re going. He has opted for a smart-casual outfit to balance out how formally he dresses. A navy blazer jacket on top, although paired with skinny jeans. Hopefully it’s not too far on either side.

Goddess, why does he worry over these tiny details? He’s always been like this, never one to fully understand how to interact with others, but now it’s simply—

His worries fade when his eyes land on the red-headed figure waiting outside. Sylvain is bound to not be the only man with bright red hair in the city, yet it simply fits him so well, his aura radiating a mile away from him, that it’s as though this is the case.

“Hey,” says Felix as he approaches. Sylvain looks up from his phone with a smile. “Sorry if I kept you waiting.”

“Not at all!” says Sylvain, popping his phone away. “How are you?”

“I’m all right, you?”

“Wonderful, now I’ve seen you.” He glances at Felix’s hair. “You’ve styled it differently.”

It’s not much. Simply a ponytail resting over his shoulder instead, and a few strands combining in a braid, but it’s enough to grab Sylvain’s attention, apparently. “Yeah. I do that sometimes. You, uh, you look nice.”

Perhaps it’s because the last time he was in Sylvain’s company, he orgasmed from very little at all, but his words are _awkward._ Luckily, Sylvain seems charmed. His smile only grows as he stretches out either side of his bomber jacket.

Thank goodness Felix isn’t the only one leaning towards casual. “Thank you!” says Sylvain. “Let’s head inside. I have a table booked.”

The interior is surprising to Felix. Sophisticated colours, warm and on the dark side, lit by relaxing lights. Gentle music plays in the background, a beautiful sound when combined with the quiet chatter and laughter of customers inside.

It’s certainly a lovely place, tidier than anywhere Felix would go at this time in his life, although not enough for him to have an overwhelming urge to flee from here immediately.

“It’s nice here for sure,” says Felix. 

“Definitely! You mentioned that you’re a bit of a picky eater in passing, so I chose somewhere that has a pretty varied menu.”

“I … I see.” It might be silly of him, to be touched by something so simple, but it’s always the little things that matter most to him. How details like this are important enough for Sylvain to remember them. His grin doesn’t give the impression that he is gloating in this, nor does he seem to realise how much he has touched Felix. Either Felix’s standards are low or Sylvain is simply a modest person.

They are guided to their table. Felix relaxes a little when he realises they’re sat by a window. These spots always help him feel at ease, as though he’s less enclosed in a room. The pair settle down in their seats and take a menu.

Felix opens his. “Oh, wow, there is a lot.”

“Take your time deciding! And if you need any recommendations, just count on me.”

“I’ll bear that in mind.” When he takes a closer look at the menu, though the prices could be higher, he’s still relieved that Sylvain wants to pay himself after being the one to initiate this.

Besides, Felix won’t deny it. It’ll be nice to be treated on a date, by a guy who is actually genuine, for the first time in … forever.

“The grills are spectacular,” says Sylvain. “Especially the seafood … Oh, and the desserts too. Though you don’t like sweet food, do you?”

“It depends. I can if it’s decent. But now you’ve mentioned grills …”

He can feel Sylvain’s eyes watch him when his attention is brought to the grill section. Felix wonders if there is a smile on the other man’s face as well, an expression of fondness, although he finds himself a little too awkward to check.

The two soon make their orders—Felix has settled for a katsu curry skillet, Sylvain a classic chicken roast—and are immediately hungrier the moment they have to wait.

“Thanks for letting me take you out,” says Sylvain. “Thought it would have seemed strange.”

“Stranger than what I saw last week? Not at all.”

“That’s exactly why I _thought_ it’d be strange. Huge contrast.” Sylvain thanks the waitress who gives him and Felix their drinks, the latter doing the same. “You have at least some trust in me, and I appreciate that.”

“Yeah. I’m surprising myself with that, to be honest.”

“I can tell you're not one to trust easily."

Felix merely hums; delving deep into that topic is hardly something which seems appropriate on a first date. “You seem to be quite passionate about food. Is that another one of your many hobbies, trying a whole array of cuisine?”

“Hmm, not necessarily. I think I just enjoy a good meal. Plus, Dedue’s passion is contagious, as is Ingrid’s … Ah, we’re close,” says Sylvain when he notices the mild surprise on Felix’s face, “so we’ve hung out together away from work. You’re old friends, right? So you probably know how much she adores food.”

“Adores? She’d probably sacrifice a newborn for a good meal.” The two share laughter, before Felix adds, “We’ve known each other since we were teens. And all that time, she never once didn’t love food. I was always strangely impressed by how she could eat far more than me.”

“And me! She’s tiny in comparison, yet she shovels food down like it’s nothing.”

“When we were sixteen, she took part in a pancake eating contest. It was a little disgusting, but also … kind of cool.”

“And did she win?”

“Of course she did.”

“That’s our Ingrid.” Sylvain grins whilst he takes a sip of his soda, before asking, “Is there any reason the two of you drifted apart until recently?”

Felix’s tongue runs over his lips, and he spins the water in his own glass. “Let’s just say we lost someone who we both loved, and it kind of got in the way of our friendship.”

“I do know that she lost her fiancé … Sorry to hear it.” Sylvain’s grin has softened into a smile, and even though it’s a little pained, it’s also comforting. “I’ve been in similar predicaments myself. Losing someone, I mean, and having it interfere with a relationship. You’re not alone in that.”

“I appreciate it. Sorry it’s happened to you as well.” Felix takes a sip of water as he gathers his thoughts. “You radiate such … I don’t know if to call it positive energy, necessarily, as it feels deeper than that. Hopeful? Something like that. So much so that I’d hardly have expected you to go through hardships, even though we all have.”

The smile on Sylvain’s face grows. Once again, Felix finds his chest is warm. “I really appreciate that, because it’s what I strive for. I’ve not really had the easiest life, but I couldn’t be happier where I am now, and I want to use that to help others as much as possible.”

“Certainly more to you than meets the eye.”

“Isn’t that how it is with all of us?” Sylvain’s chin rests on top of his hands. “After all, you seem to be quite the intriguing person yourself, Felix. It’s been wonderful learning more about you.”

Felix is saved from his uncertainty on how to respond by their meals arriving. The pair thank the waitress, inhaling the steam drifting upwards from their meals.

“Oh, that smells fantastic,” says Felix.

“Right? As you’ve probably been able to guess, the skillets get real hot, so be careful.”

Truly, the skillet is still sizzling, with this sound only increasing his hunger. Felix cuts into a part of the breaded chicken. He scoops up a little sauce, popping it into his mouth. He’s introduced to the most wonderful crunch that is utterly bursting with flavour.

“Something about that look tells me you love it,” says Sylvain, who seems to be taking his time getting food on his fork, in order to watch Felix’s reaction.

“Definitely,” says Felix after he swallows. “I can’t even begin to describe it.”

“This place is _way_ better than just going off to some expensive place, nowhere near worth the price.” Sylvain eats his own mouthful. “Of course, I’m happy no matter where I go, as long as I get to see a face that beautiful.”

Perhaps because he is softened by delicious chicken, Felix has to cover his mouth with the back of his hand, so he doesn’t give the stupidest close-lipped smile whilst he’s chewing. Once he’s finished, he says, “There we are, back to the flirting.”

“Flirting? Or is it just stating facts?”

The wink Felix receives is good-natured; he cannot help but chuckle.

The meal turns out to be the most enjoyable he has had in recent times, alongside those he has with Annette and Mercedes. He cannot say the last time a date has felt this natural and enjoyable. Usually the guys he _does_ go out with only have one thing on their mind. This might be a strange thing for Felix to dwell on, when their relationship has been based on introducing him to a world of sexual nature.

But it’s different. The reverse to the usual is amusing, and he’ll likely never stop hearing about this from Annette. Yet even if it’s strange, it speaks volumes for them to delve into sexual matters with one another, only to enjoy each other’s company enough to spend this time together.

It’s difficult for him to process. There is something here, however, that is far different to what he has had in the past. Some kind of connection that makes Felix feel as though he is worth more than giving his body to someone.

As each day goes by, as the two get closer to one another, Felix is beginning to realise how misinformed those who talk badly of Sylvain’s community are.

Towards the end of their meal, the two now eating dessert (good enough for Felix to enjoy), he is glancing around the room to see if there is anyone close by. When he sees that there isn’t, he says, “Sylvain, I already feel as though I know far more than before. About everything you’ve shown me, I mean.”

“Is that so?” he asks, Felix humming.

“I’ll be honest. There was probably a time when I wouldn’t understand why someone would do these things to their partner. The extent I used to indulge in at times, sure. But beyond that …”

“I know what you mean. Like I mentioned, it took a long time for me to grow accustomed to the idea that being this way didn’t make me abusive or anything.”

“Of course it wouldn’t,” says Felix. “I mean, that’s one thing you’ve continuously made clear throughout all of this. That what separates Dominants from abusers is consent.”

“That is most certainly true. But it was still hard to settle into.” Sylvain swallows a bite of food. For once, though he doesn’t appear uncomfortable, he certainly doesn’t hold himself in his usual way, brimming with confidence. “Accepting that I could never abuse someone, should that consent and mutual wish be there … Sounds simple, but it took me a long time. I could never, ever, allow myself to be an abuser.”

Felix's eyes flicker over Sylvain’s face. There’s something in those words speaking out to him. He senses that this is too personal to not be a personal matter to Sylvain, spoken from experience. It’s been implied before during their conversations, and with how Sylvain seems especially determined to have strong trust with his partner.

It angers Felix, saddens him, although perhaps above all else, fills him with a great sense of pride for Sylvain even before understanding fully.

“You’re always welcome to talk to me about it,” says Felix. Sylvain’s smile returns.

“I know. And the same applies to you as well, for any of your troubles. But I usually avoid dwelling on it. I’ve moved on, even if it was hard at first.” Sylvain’s fingers brush over the back of Felix’s hand. “That’s why I’m grateful that you’re working with me through all of this. I can see that opening up, admitting what makes you uncomfortable, is hard for you. So I do appreciate you being careful.”

“It _is_ hard,” Felix admits, “and I don’t have the healthiest relationship with sex.”

“I didn’t either once, so I understand completely. That only makes me all the more grateful.” 

Sylvain gives Felix’s hand a squeeze before returning to his cutlery, and the touch seems to linger. Despite a darker turn in the topic, there’s a sense of lightness in the air. Almost as though any walls between them are breaking down more. And, perhaps, they have only reached the surface.

Felix has found someone who he might, one day, be able to trust more than ever, depending on where this path leads them. The concept is both terrifying yet a thrill all at once.

Sylvain, as promised, pays for their meal. When the two are standing outside, with warm hues from a sunset greeting them, a sense of loss finds Felix, alongside that unusual emotion of not wanting to part from someone’s side.

“You’re getting the bus, aren’t you?” asks Sylvain. Felix hums.

“Unfortunately. It’s evening, so there's already going to be drunk people on there.”

“The offer still stands, you know,” says Sylvain, spinning a set of keys on his finger, “about me giving you a lift.”

Felix opens his mouth in a natural response to decline, but manages to stop himself before it sets in. “You know what? To avoid said drunk people, I might just accept that offer.”

“That’s the only reason? And not wanting to spend more time with me?” Sylvain’s voice is filled with a teasing tone. It causes Felix to roll his eyes, although his head averts to the side to hide a smile threatening to creep in.

“It’s just convenient. That’s all.”

“Sure thing, cutie.”

Sylvain leads the way to his car. Of course, this is nice as well. Felix would expect no less. But at least it’s not some kind of sports car or something else that’s ridiculously expensive; Sylvain seems far from the type to throw money around.

He doesn’t comment on it, either. As the pair settle themselves in the comfortable seats, Sylvain’s focus seems to be on little more than Felix. “Been a while since I’ve given a ride to someone so pretty,” he says, releasing a dramatic sigh. “I wonder what amazing deed granted me this chance?”

“Don’t shut up, and that pretty someone is getting straight out of the car and walking.”

“Sorry, sorry.” Sylvain isn’t apologetic at all, but then again, Felix isn’t all that mad either. Especially not with that amused, friendly smile. “What kind of music do you like?”

“A bit of everything, if it’s good. But I favour rock.”

“Another thing we have in common.”

“Unsurprising, when you seem to own the entire city’s stock of leather jackets,” says Felix, earning a laugh from Sylvain that brings a smile to Felix’s own face. The sound of drums soon fills the car, alongside a smooth bass; guitars follow, and Felix’s foot taps against the ground. “Love this song.”

“Yeah? I love it a lot too, I’ve listened to their new album so many times since it came out.”

“Ever seen them live?”

“That I have! They were awesome, truly an unforgettable experience. Have you?”

“Yeah. With … someone.” Felix hums under his breath, glancing out of the window as he says, “With all you do, it wouldn’t surprise me if you were in a band as well.”

“Not quite.” Felix can hear the grin in Sylvain’s voice. “But I considered it.”

“Not surprised.” Felix’s eyes flicker back to Sylvain, the latter’s gaze on the road with a subtle nod of his head in time with the music, and Felix is smiling when his eyes stare back out of the window again.

The journey is silent in comparison to their meal—not out of awkwardness, but simply from them enjoying the music. Sylvain sings. Not too loudly, but far from quiet, either. It’s a surprisingly raw voice, meaningful, and Felix almost has a desire to sing too. Almost. He’s not bad at singing in general, although harmonising with others is far from a skill of his.

When the pair have been driving for several minutes, Sylvain speaks. “Thanks again for coming out with me today. I had a blast.”

“And thank you for taking me out. It was some great food.”

“Great food and great company, always a fantastic combo. And the pleasure is mine!” Sylvain taps his fingers against the steering wheel. “We’ll have to do this again at some point, for sure. I like spending time with you.”

“Mm.” Great, Felix has been hit with the usual struggle of speaking about emotions. “It’s definitely nice.”

Soon, Sylvain stops by Felix’s apartment complex. The realisation that Sylvain can see it finally hits him properly. A wave of embarrassment washes over him, for even if there’s far, far worse out there, it still feels incredibly … cheap.

But Sylvain doesn’t notice anything like this, aside from a single glance to check they’re at the right location. He’s looking at Felix instead, smiling.

“So, take care. And Felix?”

“Mm?”

Felix probably should have expected Sylvain’s following words, although they take him by surprise. “Can I kiss you?”

“I—yeah. Sure.” 

Sylvain leans in to bring their lips together. It’s different. As is everything when it comes to Sylvain, although the sheer amount of contrast here stuns Felix. It’s not their first kiss, but this almost seems to be the case, now it’s not there to simply lead to more. Now Felix can focus purely on how it brings something to his heart.

He’s almost, _almost,_ giddy as Sylvain backs away from the kiss. Those gorgeous eyes smile as much as Sylvain’s lips.

“Couldn’t resist kissing you goodnight,” he says. “Enjoy the rest of your evening.”

“You too,” says Felix, wondering how he can even speak. “And, uh, get home safe.”

Felix exits the car, at least managing to return Sylvain’s smile and wave. His hands find his pockets immediately after as he walks towards the apartment building.

He’s grateful for the cool evening wind blowing against his warm face, which only seems to increase further when he realises that he does, in fact, appear to have feelings for Sylvain. Deeper than the clear physical attraction.

 _Not today, thank you,_ is what he thinks, but that strange, near giddiness follows him as he unlocks his front door, with excitement mingling in with fear once again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! As always, I'd love to hear your thoughts. Thank you for your continuous support.


	8. Exploring Vulnerability

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sylvain's birthday rolls around, he and Felix engage in impact play for the first time, and the latter's emotions only seem to intensify.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you as always for all the love! It warms my heart every week to know that people enjoy this story so much. The ending scene here is personally one of my favourites, so I hope you enjoy it.
> 
> Additional warnings for this chapter: self harm references, guilt/blame over death.

Romantic attraction is something Felix has avoided at all costs. He’s far from someone who doesn’t experience it. In fact, he’s quite the opposite, and experienced crushes before he truly understood what they meant. He simply fears the emotional vulnerability that comes alongside being romantically involved with someone.

Sex is bad enough for such things, but he’s able to disconnect with that, perceive merely the physicality of it in order to bring his mind somewhere else. This simply isn’t possible with romance. He has avoided letting it enter his life again, particularly because the last person he told he loved, even if it was family rather than a romantic partner, is no longer here.

Any time he has felt as though he might develop feelings for someone, he has grown cold, chasing them away with a prickly shell that allows no one to come in. No one, until now.

Is he simply swept off his feet by entering a new world, so much so that he is not allowing the fear of emotional vulnerability to take over? Perhaps the trust establishing between them makes him less fearful about romance, too. Although somehow, the fact that this _is_ less frightening is something that scares him in itself; perhaps he _should_ be more frightened than he is, but that is simply not the case.

It’s not as though it means anything, however. He imagines it’s normal to become attached in this type of environment. It frustrates him, but he’s not sure how someone could _not_ fall for Sylvain during any of this. Would it be possible to not feel charmed by him?

For now, Felix will keep it to himself, despite how a part of him is screaming to talk to Annette and ask her for guidance. The thought of doing so humiliates him. He’s not in high school with a crush. He’s a grown man who has fallen into the confusing, blurred lines between sexual and romantic attraction. Nothing more, nothing less.

Or at least, that is what he tells himself.

  
  


* * *

  
  


Sylvain and Felix’s schedules soon align, prompting the former to ask if the fifth of the Garland Moon is doable: his birthday. The moment Sylvain suggested this, Felix had declined almost frantically, saying that Sylvain shouldn’t be providing a free service on his birthday, of all days. Sylvain reassured him otherwise in an instant. How this is hardly a service at all when Sylvain is enjoying it deeply, that spending time together couldn’t make him any happier, before he has a busy party night in the club.

It took a little convincing for Felix to not feel as though he’s a bother, although now, he finds himself entering _Sensations_ during the day.

No birthday decorations or anything of the sort is hanging in the club. The day is still clear, however, by simply how brightly Sylvain smiles at Ingrid standing nearby. There are also gift wrappings left on a table.

“They ordered me some delicious pancakes at a café,” Felix overhears Sylvain saying as he heads closer, “and it was so good! Nothing can beat Dedue’s food, but having a nice birthday breakfast with him and Dimitri was lovely. And there’ll be lots of people here later.”

“Dorothea said she would be here herself,” says Ingrid. “You deserve it, Syl, after how hard you work. Be sure to … Oh, Felix!”

Eyes fall on Felix as he heads closer. “Apologies for interrupting,” he says. “And Happy Birthday, Sylvain.”

“You never interrupt, Felix,” says Sylvain. “Thank you! We were just talking about the night I’m having here later. Always gets crazy on my birthday! Will you be sticking around until then?”

“I’m not sure yet,” Felix answers truthfully. “Honestly, I have a limit with how packed these spaces get.”

“Ah, no worries. That’s understandable.”

Ingrid nods in agreement. “For sure. I might work here, but even I have to step away from the actual nightlife when it’s busy. It’s a lot. Not all of us can be a party animal like Sylvain.”

“What can I say? I like seeing everyone have a good time,” says Sylvain, resting his hands behind his head with a grin.

“And seeing a lot of attractive people, I imagine.”

“Well, it _is_ a perk. I’d never deny that. But there are certain people who are even more pleasing to the eye than others.”

It might simply be Felix’s hopeful, teenage crush-like brain, but he swears Sylvain’s gaze lingers on him for a moment.

“Like the mirror?” asks Ingrid.

“Oh, totally that, too.”

Ingrid laughs, shaking her head in disbelief. “Anyway, Felix, how are you? New job treating you okay?”

Felix nods. “Honestly, one of the best I’ve had. Turns out I’m not so appalling at baking that I can’t help out there, after all.”

“If you were appalling, I doubt they’d have hired you, with that included in the job description,” says Ingrid, giving him a gentle push with a teasing smile. “I’m glad to hear it. Let’s talk more later; I have to take care of a couple of errands before tonight.”

“Sure thing. It’s always nice seeing you.”

“Take care, Ingrid!” says Sylvain. Once she has smiled and walked away with a wave, he adds, “Man, she’s awesome. She commissioned a painting for my birthday, from an artist called Ignatz.”

“Oh, what of?”

“Here, I’ll show you!”

Sylvain gestures for Felix to come over to the table bearing some of the birthday gifts. He points to a painting of a beautiful black horse, highlighted by a warm sunset behind it.

“This had been my favourite horse for years,” says Sylvain, “ever since I was a kid. I was heartbroken when she died.”

“I’m sorry to hear it,” says Felix. He inspects the eyes in the painting. “It sounds strange, but she seems like she was gentle.”

“She really was. Ignatz captured her perfectly here. And it’s okay too, by the way. She died of completely natural causes with her age, bless her.”

Felix smiles, although is soon awkward as his hand rubs the back of his neck. “I, uh, feel kind of bad now. I couldn’t get you something that cool.”

There’s a shake of Sylvain’s head immediately. His entire face has lit up. “Don’t worry about that! I’m just happy you got me something at all, away from _such_ a marvellous date.” Sylvain winks, before he asks, “Did you bring it with you?”

Felix hums, hit by a strange sense of nerves. He pops his messenger bag onto the table momentarily and opens it, retrieving a transparent bag from inside. “Well, I learned to make this, and I know you like sweet things, so … yeah. No big deal.”

Judging by the way Sylvain’s eyes are quick to widen, perhaps it really is a big deal in reality. He unties the ribbon tying the bag closed, peeking inside at the contents: cookies with caramelised macadamia nuts, covered in a caramel sauce. “Oh, man, they look delicious! Can I eat one now?”

“Obviously. I made them so you can eat them.”

There’s a good-natured roll of Sylvain’s eyes. He takes one of the cookies, biting off a generous chunk. Even Felix can tell that the appreciative hum Sylvain releases isn’t faked in the slightest.

“These are brilliant! No wonder you got the job.”

“Ironic, isn’t it? That I’m picky with sweet things, but apparently picked up baking skills.”

Sylvain chuckles, taking another bite and speaking after he swallows. “You did so well with them. Thank you! Nothing beats a personalised gift, especially one this tasty.”

“It really is no problem,” says Felix, eager to skip past the responses needed for praise. “Shall we go to your room?”

“Excited, are you?”

“That’s—that’s not what I’m on about.” Felix glares over Sylvain’s laugh, although he can’t maintain it for long before he’s shaking his head with amusement. “Sorry. I’m not used to being praised on this in particular.”

“Well, I wouldn’t say it if it didn’t have meaning.”

Their conversation follows them as they take the elevator to Sylvain’s room. He is still holding onto the little bag of cookies, and seems to be resisting the urge to have his third by this point, which gives Felix a strange sense of pride. Who knew how good it can feel to see people enjoying something you’ve made for them?

Soon, the two, as per their usual, are settled on the sofa with Felix’s nerves rising. Casual chatter follows, before its turn arrives.

“So, I mentioned over text that impact play might be a good thing to try.”

“Yeah, that’s right,” says Felix. “Like, uh … spanking, I guess?”

“Precisely. Not with paddles or anything like that, though. I’d rather test your limits first.”

“I’m not a weakling.”

“Wouldn’t expect you to be.” Sylvain gives him a smile. “But it’s different, as are a lot of things around this, and I need to be careful with you. Is there anything you have to ask about?”

Felix is silent for a moment as he contemplates this. “Not a lot, from what you’ve already told me and what I’ve read online. But I guess there’s stuff that I’d like to question.”

“Hit me. Figuratively, though. The literal part is _my_ job.”

Goddess, he’s an absolute dork. Felix can’t suppress a chuckle, feeling his chest grow lighter. “Idiot. I’d like to hear from your perspective why people do this. Spanking in particular, I mean. We’ve gone over the whole vulnerability and trust with BDSM in general, but …”

“You’re wondering specifically about why someone would choose to be spanked?”

“Yeah. I’ve read about it, but again, would like to hear it from you.”

“A lot of it boils down to the same general premise that you mentioned. Trust, vulnerability, releasing or gaining control. But there are some other reasons why.” Sylvain shuffles on the couch, getting more comfortable. “There’s the simple concept of how it’s hot for some people. Giving pain, or taking it, turns them on. You’ve probably considered that with yourself. In further detail, spanking the rear can impact whatever genitalia you have, too.”

“Huh. Had no idea.”

Sylvain grins, saying, “But it’s not that simple. I mean, hardly anyone is going to get spanked just for that, considering there are other ways to pleasure those areas far more closely. Again, the main premise is the submission, trusting your partner enough to do this for you, and vice versa for the one doing the spanking. But being spanked can be generally therapeutic for people. It’s a healthy, controlled way of releasing stress, that intimacy completely breaking down walls. There’s even some people who might simply enjoy that spanking and not care for it to lead to anything sexual, although it does as such often times, and is used as a form of punishment as well in power exchanges.

“I believe that thinking about exactly why you want this, be it one reason or many, is useful to tell your partner,” Sylvain continues. “Everyone is different. Spanking is also a way for someone to fall into subspace.”

“I think I read about that when researching aftercare,” says Felix, recalling articles he was scrolling through the other day.

“You would have. I’ve not been in subspace considering submission isn’t my thing, but it’s like going on a complete high through submitting. It occurs because of the high amount of positive chemicals a submissive can release, from pleasure and pain combining together. It’s like a drug, almost, and another reason that aftercare is essential. It helps ease submissives from that high safely, as well as help to prevent subdrop."

Felix hums in thought. "Subdrop is where it can all come crashing down, isn't it?"

"Essentially, yes. Both physically and emotionally, the sub processes a lot, which feels wonderful for them—hence spanking at all—and it's important to receive a lot of reassurance and comfort after, when everything settles down. A sub can end up running low on those chemicals and be met with a lot of tiredness later on, as well as mental effects like feeling depressed, insecure and other things.”

"I did read that in some information you sent," says Felix. Some of these effects sound far too similar to how he feels generally, and he'd prefer to avoid having them intensify. He’s aware, however, that even if Sylvain is careful and takes every step he has to, things like this could still happen.

"I'll definitely be sending you another article on that specifically, later," says Sylvain. "Today, you shouldn’t have the possibility of experiencing that, as a simple spanking won’t be enough to cause subdrop. Contrary to what badly written novels will tell you, no, some spanks from my hand will not make you hurt sitting down tomorrow." He grins, which Felix finds contagious, smiling slightly himself. "But I'd like you to be aware in the future. And should you ever feel any symptoms of subdrop, please do communicate that with me. Okay?"

"Okay," says Felix. This causes Sylvain's smile to grow.

Before he continues, he takes a sip of water from one of two glasses previously prepared, Felix doing the same. “And so, back to the spanking; what do _you_ think you want from it?” asks Sylvain. “Is there anything you think you particularly desire?”

Felix is quiet for a moment as he dwells over this. His desires have become clearer the more he delves into this with Sylvain, although adjusting to the idea that he might be masochistic in certain ways is taking a little longer. It’s required some dwelling on the subject, learning more, for him to find something even close to an answer.

“To be honest, it just seems hot,” is his first answer, which causes Sylvain to laugh.

“Completely valid.”

A smile in response, Felix’s eyes flickering down to his nails. “And, well, I think it’s similar to the whole restraining thing, like you said … The thought of letting go of control is appealing. I guess I’m used to having such a firm grasp on everything, after all, and living life at a hundred miles an hour all the time."

“Impact play would surely help you with that," says Sylvain. "Many masochists are like this, actually, and it's that wish to relax which makes pain appeal to them so much."

Felix hums. “That’s what I’m picturing. Granted, it’s taking a hell of a lot from me to even think about letting you do this. I’m not usually one to trust people enough.”

“And you _do_ trust me?”

“I think so.”

This answer isn’t enough for Sylvain. He turns to face Felix more directly, even reaching for the other’s hands to take them into his own. A gentle squeeze. Felix blinks up at him, a part of him wanting to pull back, another wondering how disappointing it will be when Sylvain lets go.

“I need to know that you’re comfortable,” he says. “I’m not saying you can’t have doubts; we have a safeword, after all, if you need to stop immediately. But there’s a worry that I have about this.”

“What is it?”

“I’m worried that you’re lying about trusting me to do this, because you want to be hurt as a way to punish yourself for something.”

The thought temporarily confuses him. After all, he has believed he’s deserving of pain in the past, purposefully harming himself. But … no, that definitely isn’t the case now. Sylvain is not here as a means for Felix to harm himself. He knows that, and hasn’t considered it for a moment.

When Sylvain goes through with this, it’s because Felix wants to feel the relief of focusing on something else, and have his thoughts drift away from trauma. He wants to be grounded, mind swept away by the intoxicating world of lost control. If anything, in comparison to how Felix has coped up until now, it is the exact opposite of self harm.

Felix shakes his head at last. “No. That’s not what I’m doing.”

“Are you certain? And you'd tell me if anything is too much?”

“I will.”

Sylvain’s smile returns. “So I’ll ask again. Do you trust me?”

“Yes,” says Felix. “I trust you.”

The hands holding Felix’s squeeze again. The expected sense of loss arrives when they let go, although one soon touches Felix again, brushing over his shoulder as Sylvain gets to his feet.

“My bedroom would be best,” says Sylvain. “Comfier for you, as this is your first time.” Felix’s peculiar nerves over entering such a place must be easy to pick up on; a flicker of amusement appears on Sylvain’s face. “It’s not some sex dungeon, don’t worry.”

“With you, I wouldn’t be surprised if it was. But I’ll take your word for it.”

Felix soon sees that yes, Sylvain’s room is not like a sex dungeon. It’s as classy as the living space, modern interior continuing on through here. A bed with canopy bed posts rests in the centre of the far wall. Hanging above it is a beautiful landscape painting. Felix is quick to notice that amongst the elegance, there is more personalisation in here: a slightly uneven pile of books rests on top of a chest of drawers, and one of Sylvain’s beloved leather jackets is thrown over the back of a chair.

He has the audacity to say, “Excuse any mess,” despite how there is literally no mess here. Anything slightly out of place seems purposeful, a touch of character to make it feel homely.

“Not one of those bondage beds,” says Felix. Sylvain laughs, shaking his head.

“Nah. They’re a lot of fun, and I’ll pop into one of the dungeon rooms if I want to use one. But I want a good ol’ ordinary bed in my own room.” Sylvain pats one of the canopy bed posts. “Mind you, these are perfect to get creative with.”

“Forever the artist."

“You know it.” Sylvain flashes Felix a grin before sitting down on the bed, patting it to welcome Felix to sit as well.

“How do people jump into this?” asks Felix as he does so.

“Well, that will vary. Often times, it’s a step in some kind of scenario you’re playing, or happens in the heat of the moment. It may be used as general punishment as well, not just that in a scene, for those partaking in BDSM as a lifestyle. Now is a little different, though, because I want to ease you into it gently.” Sylvain’s fingers brush down the side of Felix’s face. “And considering part of the reason you want this, is because you think it’s hot … Maybe we should turn you on a little first.”

“Is that your way of saying you want to kiss me right now?”

The hand on Felix’s face shifts, lifting his chin. “A guy can’t resist someone this beautiful, you know.”

Only a moment is granted for Felix to roll his eyes; Sylvain’s lips are soon brought to his own. Felix’s eyes close, grasping onto Sylvain’s T-shirt to bring him closer. These lips … There is truly nothing like them, nor how brilliant Sylvain is at using them; the perfect amount of roughness, how his teeth nip at Felix’s lip to urge him to open his mouth more, granting room for Sylvain’s tongue.

And his hands. How _wonderful_ his hands feel. Running down the sides of Felix’s waist, over his hips. They caress and squeeze with purpose. They make Felix almost self-conscious of his own, stroking over Sylvain’s chest in return.

Those hands on Felix soon return to his head, bringing it back by his ponytail; barely enough to hurt, but the slightest sting in his scalp causes his eyes to widen.

“Your lips are something else,” says Sylvain. Quietly, almost. “It’s surprising they feel so soft, with all the sass that can come out of them.”

“You can thank Mercie for that. She’s the one who told me to use lip balm.”

Sylvain chuckles. “I’ll be sure to.” After letting go of Felix’s hair, he strokes over either side of Felix’s hips, reaching his rear and squeezing. There’s a soft grunt from Felix whilst he scoots closer. “Are you ready?”

“I think—yeah.” Felix is quick to correct himself, adjusting to Sylvain’s necessity of firm, certain consent. “I am. How should I, uh, position myself?”

“As it’s your first time, we should stay here rather than bend you over something. Over my lap, maybe.”

“Over your lap,” Felix repeats in mild dismay. “That’s embarrassing as hell.”

“More embarrassing than on your hands and knees?”

It’s a genuine question, but the thought of being in such a position and _asking_ to be spanked … All right, yes, it’s hot. Definitely. But it’s also absolutely mortifying. “Fine. We’ll go for the lap option.”

“Are you sure you’re comfortable?”

“I mean, it’s awkward, but I think it’d be as such no matter how I take it, really.”

“It is for most people, for their first time,” says Sylvain, voice calm with reassurance, “so no worries. And you remember what I’ve been emphasising to you, don’t you?”

There’s been a number of things, but one stands out at this moment. “That this doesn’t make me weak, nor should I be ashamed of it.”

“Precisely that.”

Felix finds a small smile creeping to his face. “So, uh …”

“Here.” Sylvain shifts, so his legs hang over the edge of the bed. “Scoot over.”

“Can’t believe I’m doing this,” Felix mutters as he moves closer. He’s not hesitant to rest on his front over Sylvain’s lap, purely to get it over with.

“Imagine you’re truly channelling your cat energy,” says Sylvain, running his fingers through Felix’s hair. He laughs over the scowl he receives.

“Shut up,” says Felix, despite how the teasing has somehow managed to calm him down a little. Although it could also be the careful hand trailing up his leg. Felix shivers once it reaches his thigh, even whilst clothing is in the way.

“I’m going to spank you with your jeans still there, to begin with,” says Sylvain, voicing the curiosity that has reached Felix over this very matter. “Get you accustomed to receiving spanks, while you're positioned this way."

“All right.”

“Remember to breathe, okay?”

Felix nods. He exhales deeply, trying to relax, head leaning on the arms he crosses over on the bed. He attempts to bring his mind away from his embarrassment and instead to the hand stroking over his backside. Squeezing at a cheek, Felix shuddering, almost squirming from this strange desperation he finds reaching him.

“Certain you’re ready?”

“Yes.”

That hand squeezes again. Strokes in a gentle circle, before Felix feels it lift. He has a moment to comprehend what that means before it lands back down with a _slap._ Felix merely blinks; its slight sting isn’t anything more than when others have slapped his ass in a casual, normal setting.

The second is of the same force. Third, a little stronger. This causes Felix’s lips to purse for a moment, legs shuffling slightly—out of discomfort or arousal, he cannot know.

“Okay?” Sylvain’s voice, though gentle, has a hint of huskiness that sends a shiver down Felix’s spine.

“Yeah. You can, uh—you can go harder, if you want.”

“If _you_ want. And I will be. It’ll be more impactful without your trousers in the way, but I’m building you up.”

Sylvain’s hand takes a moment to caress before it slaps again. After this one, it moves to the other ass cheek. Once, twice. The power behind it increases that little more. Not enough for Felix to make a sound yet, but enough for his fingers to grasp lightly onto the bed covers.

Sylvain squeezes next, saying, “Ready to have your pants pulled down, I reckon. Is that fine with you? How are you feeling?”

“I’m fine. Can’t tell how I’m feeling yet, though.” He realises, with utter dismay, that Sylvain can feel any signs of arousal when Felix’s crotch is pressed into his thigh. “It might, um, be turning me on. I’m not sure.”

“You’ll be a little more sure before long. Let’s take our time, though.”

Sylvain is even skilled at reaching beneath Felix for his trousers; both hands squeezing at his rear, before running over his hips to grab the button at his abdomen. Sylvain unfastens the jeans, Felix assisting with them being pulled down his hips by a wriggle of his body.

“We’ll keep the underwear there too, for a moment,” says Sylvain, "then pull them down as well. And may I just say, Felix, that you’re utterly gorgeous.”

“Compliments now? Really?”

“Always, baby. But let’s watch your mouth.”

The voice is gentle, almost playful, but the sense of authority from those words causes Felix to swallow. No nods, words of agreement, but silent compliance instead, that he knows Sylvain understands. He shudders when Sylvain feels his backside through the briefs.

And moments later, it’s spanked. With the thicker material now gone, Felix cannot stop himself from inhaling sharply. Ow. Yeah, that kind of hurts. Same for another spank, and another. But it doesn’t simply hurt. He feels it, now, how the stinging mingles with a strange sense of pleasure. How every jolt of his body seems to send heat between his legs.

Goddess. It shouldn’t do that.

“You’re being so good.” Another spank, and this time, a gasp. “All right?”

“I—keep going.”

Felix refuses to fix his eyes anywhere but the bed, although he can sense Sylvain’s grin. He spreads the pain equally across both sides. It leaves Felix’s legs squirming together, a peculiar desire that he doesn’t question; for his underwear to be gone as well, granting Felix the opportunity to feel Sylvain properly. For him to do this harder, even.

Sylvain understands him too well. His fingers slip beneath the band of his briefs. “Want these pulled down?”

“… Please.”

Felix holds in a sigh as they are as such. As strange as one might deem this, he realises how nervous the vulnerability of nakedness makes him, even if it’s only one body part. He tries to avoid undressing when sleeping with someone, and has often pulled trousers down to get the job done as fast as possible, typically in a position where there’s not much a person can see.

Here, however, he’s willingly stretched across someone’s lap. Waiting. Arms crossed by his head rather than near anything he can use to cover himself with. At Sylvain’s mercy, even, because even if he’s not restrained, he knows that a hand planting his face into the bed would be hard to fight against in this position.

“Felix?” The voice is a little distant. Felix exhales deeply and focuses on bringing it closer.

“Yes?”

“Are you okay? I’ve noticed your breathing has become shallower.”

How is he this observant? “I’m just nervous.”

“Is that all?”

“And a bit scared. I guess.”

“We can stop, if you need to.” Sylvain’s hand even hovers at Felix’s lower back rather than his now bare backside, as though ensuring not to cross a single line. “Please be honest.”

“I don’t need to,” Felix answers truthfully. “I just—you have no idea how many walls I have to break down for this.”

“I might not understand the full extent, but I do have an idea. And I reckon that’s something you should be proud of.”

Felix chuckles, turning to glance directly at Sylvain before his eyes drop back down to the bed. “Proud? For letting some nightclub owner spank me?”

“Yes. Because I know how much it’s taken for you to let this happen. Are you ready?”

“Yeah.” This conversation has managed to ease his anxiety, somehow, rather than simply make him snap. He wonders if that’s growth as well. “I’m ready.”

His breath hitches when Sylvain’s hand runs over an ass cheek. It suddenly feels so _large._ In fact, all of Sylvain does, or perhaps Felix himself simply feels small, vulnerable.

Although there’s a difference: for once, he actually wants to be in that position.

 _Slap._ “Ah—”

The startled gasp is louder than he’d expect. Enough to embarrass him, but not enough for that to be his only focus; far more of his attention is given to the thumb circling on the area Sylvain has hit. He does so again. And again. Not rushing, giving Felix the time to adjust each time.

It hurts. Not as much as he imagined, but it still most _definitely_ hurts. Although there’s something in this pain. Something that is causing him to hide his burning face, in fear that his arousal will be evident there as well, and not just in the erection he can feel forming between his legs.

“Are you enjoying this, Felix?” asks Sylvain. He squeezes at an ass cheek. It’s almost enough for Felix to moan. In fact, he’s only certain he doesn’t do so because he bites his lip.

“Mm.”

Sylvain seems to know the short response is from nerves. Felix can practically hear his smile. A caressing hand, before it lifts and spanks again, this time on the other cheek.

“ _Sh-shit—”_

He blinks. This time, the cry of pain has the slightest hint of a moan.

That’s embarrassing.

“Ignore that,” he says.

“No, baby,” says Sylvain. He sounds almost amused, but there’s no denying it. Felix isn’t the only one aroused. “I’m not.”

Another spank. Another. Felix’s mind is focused on little but that hand, by now. He’s being torn away from anxieties and fears to instead … focus on the moment, he realises, which is exactly what Sylvain has been talking about all this time. This pain is causing a relief of some kind. A release. He barely understands it, how these slaps against his skin, the stinging left behind, can do that to him. But it does, and perhaps that’s all that really matters.

“Getting quite red here, you know. It’s an attractive sight.”

No witty remarks arrive; Felix is breathless. Turned on more, even, by those words. His legs have begun to squirm with more intensity. Hands gripping tightly on the bed covers, panting into his arm. Practically excited for the next hit.

When he finally moans properly, he should be more embarrassed than ever, but his mind is so centred on how _good_ this pain feels, how much it tingles with pleasure, that he can’t even find room for that shame.

He feels them, too. Tears. Not strong enough to sob, or for Sylvain to hear him crying whilst his face is hidden. But they are there. Quiet, falling when his closed eyes tighten with a jolt of his body. And he cannot say for sure if the pain itself is the cause. He doesn’t even know what kind of tears they are.

Sylvain’s hand gently caresses the marks left behind when he’s done. Felix realises that these motions of care feel as experienced as the previous spanks.

“Are you all right, Felix?”

He can do little but breathe heavily, although tries to at least nod to reassure him. He knows the answer: he’s fine. More than fine, even. He’s not sure he’s felt this relaxed in a long time. Simultaneously, however, his heart races with the realisation of what he has just granted Sylvain.

Trust. Complete openness. And that in itself is terrifying.

“Tell me how you’re feeling,” says Sylvain. He’s not pressuring Felix to reveal his face, which is comforting. Instead, Felix feels him shuffling. A cool lotion is soon reaching Felix’s backside, soothing the stinging left behind.

“I’m … relaxed. Is that normal?”

“Totally normal.” Sylvain’s voice only adds to this; it’s calm, gentle, so foreign to Felix that he both wants to hear that voice forever and run to the other side of the world to avoid it.

“And it felt good. Feels good now, too. Even though it hurts.”

“Right.”

“Does that make me a masochist?”

Sylvain chuckles lightly. He finishes massaging the lotion into Felix’s backside. It still stings, although a lot of the burning has eased. “Probably. I mean, I can feel it’s turned you on, not just granted relief.”

“I—shut up.” Felix is quick to, awkwardly, shuffle off Sylvain’s lap and pull his trousers up in the process. He’s avoiding the other’s eye. Perhaps it’d be less awkward if it didn’t feel as though he has the hugest blush in existence on his face.

“Take it easy,” says Sylvain. An arm is wrapped around Felix’s shoulders, the latter freezing. “Don’t rush.”

“Why are you …?” Sylvain brings him that little closer, other hand stroking Felix’s thigh, and he understands. “Oh. This is aftercare. I’m cool though, you know.”

“Still, this is necessary. In a moment, we’ll get you more water, okay?”

“I … All right. Fine.”

He doesn’t think he actually wants to move from here. Sylvain is warm, inviting, and Felix is … content. On somewhat of a high, even. Certainly not the extent of what Sylvain has described with subspace. But he’s somewhere on the way to that, and he wonders how much more he’d fall into it, should this have been a proper session.

His eyes close, and his head rests against Sylvain’s shoulder. He even smiles when he’s brought closer, now by both arms. Yet something changes, when a minute has passed and all he has done is listen to Sylvain’s heartbeat and murmured words, telling him how well he did.

The tears he shed during their session catch up to him, the mellowing of his emotions intensify in an instant. Before he knows it, Sylvain has been pushed away and Felix is sobbing into his hands.

Full, uncontrollable sobs, for the first time in years.

“Why am I …?” His words are barely coherent, unable to finish a sentence. He backs away from the hands that reach to him.

“Felix—”

“I’m sorry, I don’t—why am I doing this?”

“It happens, you’re overwhelmed.” How can that voice remain so gentle even now, with Felix shamefully displaying himself this way? “Breathe. Talk to me if you need to.”

“There’s nothing I …”

But there is. All of it is flooding out of him, his tears leading the way for all his suppressed emotions and traumas to leave him. The news of his brother’s accident, those words, those _disgusting,_ awful words—

“ _He would have preferred to die this way.”_

“ _He would’ve preferred to not die at all!”_

And yet of course, _he_ had not been the only one to say words that dig beneath skin. Felix did as well. And he never knew, not for a moment, the impact of their torn bonds. Never. Should he have thought about that for a moment, he’d have been better. He’d have at least said goodbye.

“It’s my fault,” he gasps out in between convulsive sobs. “It’s my fault he died, even after Glenn—”

This time, he’s not strong enough to fight away the arms that bring him close again. Too weak to do anything but have his head fall against Sylvain’s chest. A reliable, tender hand runs through his hair, and there are murmurs again. Soothing, kind, everything that Felix doesn’t deserve.

It must be awful of him to let it all sink in.

“Deep breaths. In and out.”

Felix nods, almost frantically. He tries. Almost chokes from doing so, his tears interrupting steady breathing. Slowly but surely, however, he steadily begins to calm.

The impact from not crying this much in a long time has combined with the previous, foreign concept of relaxation; it seeps at his energy, and soon, the tight grip he has on Sylvain’s shirt loosens, and all he can do is remain limp against the other.

“Sorry,” says Felix, barely above a whisper. “It’s your birthday, yet here you are. Holding onto pathetic old me.”

“It’s not pathetic to cry. We all cry sometimes.”

“Still. Happy Birthday.”

Sylvain gently eases Felix up from him, wiping away a tear with his thumb. A smile, even now. “Hey. I really don’t mind. It means a lot, even, that you’re opening up to me.”

“Yeah. Pretend that didn’t happen.” Felix’s mind screams for him to wriggle away. It’s impossible. “And forget what I said.”

“I’m not going to pry.” Sylvain’s speech is slow, careful. “But I’m sure that you weren’t the result of anyone’s death.”

Felix chuckles humourlessly. “That’s what you think.”

He blinks over the brief kiss planted on his lips. “What I know,” Sylvain corrects him with. “I’m always here to talk to. Even if it’s little by little.”

“… Yeah. I know.” Felix finally pulls himself away, breathing out whilst reaching to grab a tissue from the night-stand. “So, uh, contradictory to bursting into tears, I did enjoy that. Reckon you deserve some honesty after that fiasco.”

“Not too much for you, then?”

“I’m tough. Don’t underestimate me.”

Sylvain chuckles. “I’m not doing that, not for a moment. I just want to make sure nothing is too far.”

“It’s not, I …” A hand rubs the back of Felix’s neck. “Well, I guess I really am seeing that all this is right for me, after all.”

“I think so too, beautiful.”

Stupidly enough, that single word manages to bring a smile to Felix’s face. His stomach twists with foreign emotions. A sense of romance, of wanting nothing more than to lean in right now and bring their lips together.

But Sylvain is simply here to help him, guide him. Felix is certain he’s not treated differently to how Sylvain views others. Which isn’t a bad thing, when Sylvain is such a caring person. It’s simply reality that Felix isn’t someone to be deemed as special. Not quite as special as Sylvain is becoming in Felix’s life, at least.

“Well then,” says Felix, beginning to get up off the bed. “I should—”

A hand on his arm stops his movements. He stares at Sylvain. Uncertain yet wanting, heart skipping a beat in his chest. It soars when Sylvain pulls him down in order to bring their lips together.

It’s a kiss identical to that when Sylvain dropped him off by his apartment. Almost identical, at least. Now there’s something else in there, too. Something that wasn’t there before the vulnerability Felix displayed today.

“You know what would be a perfect birthday gift?” asks Sylvain when their lips part.

“Knowing you, tying someone up and fucking them relentlessly.”

Sylvain’s laugh stirs warmth in Felix’s chest. “That’s marvellous, yes. But I’m talking about a second date with you.”

“Ah.” He’s not sure on what to feel, other than how his body’s reaction is to warm his cheeks a little. “Yeah. That does sound nice.”

Another kiss is gifted to him. Perhaps it’s not all that out there, after all. Considering the possibility that Felix might be turning into someone special for Sylvain in return.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you as always for reading! Halfway now which almost makes me sad, although there is still a lot I'm excited for you to see. Hopefully you enjoyed the chapter!


	9. A Flicker of Emotion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sylvain and Felix have their second date, resulting in the two heading back to the latter's apartment together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for such lovely comments on the last chapter, I truly appreciate it!
> 
> Additional warnings for this chapter: mentions of family death and domestic abuse. I know these are hinted at in the tags, but thought I'd warn anyway to be on the safe side. Enjoy!

Contrary to what appearances suggest, Felix doesn’t care for nightlife much. It’s bearable if it isn’t too hectic, and he can have fun if he’s in the right company. He’s simply too much of an introvert to fully enjoy it, and the constant sounds can put him on edge.

On the flipside, however, Sylvain’s club allows him to feel at home, in a sense. He feels welcomed there. Due to it now being widespread knowledge that he is close to Sylvain, he’s able to regularly visit the club itself during the day, even without this being arranged. The staff around at this time is limited. Ingrid, however, has arrived early, needing to take care of a few things before her shift starts.

“You wouldn’t believe it, honestly,” she says. “Last night, that kid couldn’t have been a day over sixteen. I try not to judge when people can simply look young, but goodness, Felix … The ‘ID’.”

Felix finishes biting into the cracker he’s eating. No, he doesn’t drop by here frequently for the food alone, although he cannot deny how large of a perk it is. “Let me guess, it couldn’t have been faker?”

“Exactly. If you’re trying to illegally get into a club, at least put some effort behind it, you know?” Ingrid takes some food herself; by some, it’s an entire burger, which is probably a mid-afternoon snack for her rather than a late second lunch. “I’m glad you work in a bakery, so you don’t have people trying to lie about their age to get food, at least.”

“Oh, you’d still be surprised.”

“Retail shenanigans?”

“Precisely,” he confirms. “Just the other day, we had someone try to say the food she bought was expired. _Expired,_ even though it had been baked with ingredients well in their use-by date, that morning.”

“What was her reasoning for this?”

“She ordered a savoury cake, on purpose, and acted as though the lack of sweetness was because it was out of date.” Felix’s fingers press to his temple, certain he could be greeted with a migraine by simply _thinking_ of this encounter. “And, of course, she tried to use this as a way for us to bake her something _right_ at that moment, for free.”

“Of course she did,” says Ingrid, once she has swallowed a particularly large bite of her burger. “Did you unleash all your sass on her?”

“A bit. But it turns out Lysithea—someone else who works there, I mean—cannot stand entitled customers.” The memory is quickly sinking back in Felix, and he chuckles. “She’s pretty small, but even I would be intimidated on the receiving end of that _.”_

“Sounds like quite the girl.”

“She’s something else, all right,” says Felix. When he hears voices in the distance, his attention shifts from Ingrid to the bar. He recognised Dedue’s voice—the other person’s, however, not so much. They stand at what appears to be the same height as Felix, with grey hair on top of their head. “Who is that?”

Ingrid follows his gaze. “Ah, he’s applying for a catering position. I believe he’s called Ashe?”

“Ashe with grey hair. I wonder if that’s a coincidence or if it’s on purpose.”

The two men share a handshake, Ashe appearing to keep his smile composed. The moment Dedue glances at someone else, Ashe’s hand clenches into a fist of victory.

“Looks like it went well,” says Ingrid. “It’s a shame you couldn’t work here too, you know. It would let us see each other more.”

“If things were different, I might have considered it,” says Felix. “But Sylvain said he avoids giving jobs to those he gets involved with. Nightlife is probably too busy for me to work in though, anyway.”

“Yeah. Like I mentioned, that gets to me a lot, too.” There’s a pause, Ingrid taking time to eat silently, before she eventually says, “You two really are getting along. You and Sylvain, I mean.”

“Doesn’t he get on with everyone?” Clear avoidance of the question, perhaps; Felix is always awkward over the possibility of meaning something to a person. But it really is true. No matter how Sylvain might have been in the past, now, he’s a charmer to everyone around him.

“Well, yes. But I don’t know, there’s something different about you. You both mesh well. Which might be surprising to some, when you seem to contrast each other in a number of ways.”

Felix hums. “Opposites attract, I suppose.” Even more so here, within such an alluring world. He might even say that these opposites bring them so close together.

“It’s still nice to see, for both of you. I’ve heard that Sylvain had a rough upbringing, and … Well, of course I know about you. I think you both deserve each other.”

Though Felix’s mouth opens to retort, say something about how this implies the two are together, no words come out. Possibly because he enjoys how that feels: being the type of person one deserves to have. He would have never deemed himself as that. Never, for a moment, has he felt as though he is special enough to be considered a positive aspect in someone’s life.

But maybe he’s wrong. By the time he might say something as simple as, “Thanks, _”_ there is laughter from the stairs. Both Felix and Ingrid glance over to find Sylvain and Mercedes.

“I should not laugh, when that was in the name of the Goddess,” says Mercedes, letting out a sigh once her chuckles have ceased. Sylvain grins at her, glancing at the pair sitting down together and giving them a wave.

“Oh, hey guys! Mercedes and I decided to head here to do our workshop’s planning.”

“It’s been a little while since I’ve seen you, Felix,” says Mercedes once she and Sylvain head closer. “How are you? You must come round for dinner again, soon.”

“Ah, definitely,” says Felix, realising it’s already been a while since that happened. It’s strange; time in general seemed to flow by quickly after the death of his father, although now, he realises that he simply lived through the motions, each day passing by in a blur.

It’s as though this is now clearing. Time speeds up as he finds more reasons to pay attention to it. He supposes it’s true after all, about time flying by when you’re having fun. The same might apply to happiness.

He’s not exactly sure if he’s _happy,_ yet. Not when his heart is still so heavy. But he’s certainly brighter than before.

“Still can’t get over how much of a small world this is,” says Sylvain, holding his arms behind his head. “Felix knows Annette, Annette is married to Mercedes, Mercedes knows me, I know Ingrid, then it goes all back around again.”

“It does seem like fate,” says Mercedes in agreement. Though Felix rolls his eyes, he is much less doubtful of such a concept the longer this goes on for.

“Truly! Oh, and Felix—you’re off work tomorrow, right? Let’s finally have our date.”

Felix’s heart does something in his chest. Flutter, perhaps, as embarrassing as that is. “Ah, sure thing. What are we doing this time?”

“Hmm, haven’t really thought about it …” says Sylvain. He grins. “Well, that’s a lie. I totally have. I considered a movie, but that doesn’t really give leeway to talk.”

“No, not really.” Felix feels as though he should bear Sylvain in mind, anyway; he’s the one much more forward about them having dates at all, as well as the one who paid for the last. Even if Felix cannot exactly afford a date of that calibre, he can at least pay attention to Sylvain’s interests. “Um, there’s always the museum?”

Score one on the _actually handling dating okay_ chart. Sylvain’s eyes light up. “Oh man, it’s been forever since I went. Sure thing!”

“As much as I hate to interrupt this,” says Mercedes, truly sounding as though she despises doing such a thing, “we have to get started on the workshop.”

“Ah, right. Sorry, Mercedes. I’ll see you both later!”

The two wander off, Ingrid and Felix waving after them. The former has a certain look in her eye when her gaze lands back on Felix.

“What?” he says.

“A date to a museum? That’s something you save for someone you really are interested in, usually.”

“So?”

“So it seems as though some real feelings are coming into play, here,” says Ingrid, taking a straw into her mouth with a sly smile.

Felix scoffs and looks down at his own glass, although it takes all he has to hold back a smile. Real feelings indeed, as terrifying as they might be.

  
  


* * *

  
  


There are countless different museums in Faerghus. If Felix is honest, he has little clue on the differences between them, away from those which contain awesome weapons used in past wars. He’s not that much of a history buff regardless of how it does interest him. Perhaps he simply never found the time nor motivation to indulge in it.

And so, despite being the one to suggest this idea, it’s down to Sylvain to decide on the specific museum they visit. He’s chosen one in their city: a history museum on Fodlan’s ancestry, a lot of which is related to war. Felix wonders if Sylvain can tell that he is nerdy enough to have a collection of replica swords, or if this is purely a coincidence.

“Have you ever been here?” asks Sylvain, after he puts money in the donation box on their way in—it’s likely he will do the same on the way out, too.

Felix ensures to put some of his own money in there as well, speaking as he does so. “I have. I came here with my brother.”

The word stabs his chest, even though it has already been years. “Oh, nice! I came here too. Not with my own brother, as he’s a total asshole. But I did with a few friends.”

They have no particular destination in mind when heading into the museum, simply following a sign leading them through its halls. They’re soon inside a room full of artifacts. Felix can feel his nerdiness creep in little by little, although it’s Sylvain who is poring over what is inside. It’s quite amusing to see a tall man, with a folded denim jacket around black ripped jeans, marvelling over history.

With Felix’s similar attire of skin-tight jeans and a chain resting on his thigh, he realises the pair likely seem odd in a place like this, as though they somehow got the location of a concert wrong and ended up here by accident.

“This is cool,” says Sylvain, pointing out a slab of concrete that has been shattered in the middle. Strange engravings in the stone have been left behind. “Do you know about the legends of what used to be on this land?”

“About magic and stuff? Yeah, I do.”

“It says here that no scientist can fathom how this stone was damaged like that.” Sylvain points to a sign beneath it. “The engravings aren’t damaged at all, yet it appears as though they’re not any fresher than the damage. Makes you wonder what happened for it to end up like that.”

An amused smirk tugs at Felix’s lips. “You’re saying it was magic?”

“I’m saying that history stretches back so far, and there’s so much we don’t know, that we shouldn’t rule out any possibility.” Sylvain gives Felix a wink before the two continue on. “Do you believe in the Goddess?”

“No idea,” says Felix truthfully. “In general, I’d say She doesn’t exist. But I guess I can’t say that for sure when there’s a lot we don’t know, as you said, and how there were definitely things over time that seemed … strange. So I guess I neither believe nor don’t believe.”

“So you’re more agnostic, then. Same here.” The two are soon in a room of fossils. There are certain creatures in their continent as well, different to that of other places. They’re blessed to live somewhere so interesting. “I love our history, truly. Seeing how the countries were founded, how they were once at war—obviously, war is dreadful, but it’s fascinating to look at it, so many centuries later.”

“Oh, for sure,” says Felix. “I enjoy looking at the weapons they used. Back before guns were a thing, I mean.”

“We’ll go there soon, then. But yeah, isn’t it fascinating? Granted, I’m glad we were born in this time period, so we don’t have to fight.”

Felix has thought that himself a number of times: how he himself would be, if he was born in a time period where he’d have to fight in a war. Would he be strong? He likes to imagine so. But then again, it’s hard to picture yourself in such a gruelling predicament. He’s never known what it’s like to battle anyone besides himself.

It turns out the museum was a fantastic idea of his. There’s something content about wandering around these rooms with Sylvain. It’s enjoyable to watch his fascination, warmth dwelling in Felix’s chest every time Sylvain shows clear excitement. It’s also the perfect opportunity to see this side to him. The bookworm, the intelligence surrounding topics away from real-life issues, the artist—Sylvain is a varied person for sure, absolutely brimming with character, and it’s likely the most attractive thing about him.

Felix is mesmerised as well. And that shared interest sparks conversation, debates. Something that Felix has never really had when going on dates with someone.

Perhaps it’s this solidarity, a sense of being with someone he can trust, that stops him being defensive when Sylvain says, “You mentioned you’ve been here with your brother, right? Does he live nearby?”

Felix’s tongue licks at his lips. “He’s … not around.”

“Moved out of the country?”

“He died.” Best to be straight to the point sometimes. Sylvain’s eyes widen, followed immediately by the furrowing of his eyebrows.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I didn’t know.”

“It’s fine. Don’t worry.” Despite how it’s not exactly fine, even now; perhaps it would be if he had healed properly alongside his father, but instead, Felix brought on his death too. The irony.

“That special someone then—Ingrid’s fiancé, I mean …”

“Yes,” says Felix. “That’s him. Glenn, my brother and her partner.”

“I can see why you drifted apart, now. I imagine that both of you having such a close relationship to him would do that. You truly have my condolences.”

Felix can both see and hear this. He shrugs. “It’s fine, really. Although I won’t deny it hurts. We were close.” He pauses for a moment, deciding that if he can be asked about his dead brother, it’s not too personal to ask Sylvain about this: “You said your brother is an asshole?”

“Oh, yeah.” Though Sylvain doesn’t appear uncomfortable, he’s certainly more tense than before. There’s always a serious expression on his face when he is. “He—well. It’s a long story, but I reckon you deserve at least a bit of that, what with how open you’ve become. I’m sure you’ve managed to figure out by now, that I’ve been a victim of abuse.”

Felix hums. The pair’s eyes are now on a painting of two silhouettes standing side-by-side on a battlefield, weapons in the ground. “Yeah. I did get that impression, from how much you were emphasising how you couldn’t abuse someone. Was it your brother who abused you?”

“Exactly him,” Sylvain confirms. “Granted, my father wasn’t great either, but I wouldn’t say he was abusive. Not like Miklan.”

“That’s why you left so abruptly.”

“Yeah. Miklan was already in prison by the time I was sixteen, so me leaving was more to do with not being able to stand living in that house anymore.”

“Prison?” Felix repeats, eyes widening. “For the abuse?”

“Nah. Well, that added to his sentence, but it was something else.”

Felix cannot fathom having such a person as a brother. Not when his own, though with his own flaws, was a hero. Despite a cold attitude at times, Glenn would never hurt anyone else, ever. Not in this way. “Thank you for telling me about this,” says Felix. “I can’t imagine it’s the easiest thing to do.”

“It’s become easier and easier to do that through therapy,” says Sylvain. “I’m seeing him today, and he’s wonderful.”

“You’re still in therapy?” It comes out worryingly rude, although Sylvain doesn’t seem offended in the slightest.

“Oh, yeah. I’m far better now, but I’m not without my struggles. It helps to speak about them to someone.” Sylvain pauses, eyes flickering over the painting the two currently admire, as he seems to gather his thoughts. “Do you have a therapist?”

“Uh, no. Tried it. Hated it.”

“I see. Because Seteth—that’s mine—is excellent. I was thinking he might be of help to you, too.”

If anyone else suggested this, Felix would certainly be insulted, see this as an implication that he’s weak. Sylvain, however, with how he speaks of this as casually as he would anything else, doesn’t demean him. He treats it as a normal part of life.

And perhaps it should be, to speak to someone who can truly listen and help with problems. Felix is learning a lot about what should be normalised in society.

“I don’t know,” he admits regardless. “My last therapist made me worse, if anything.”

“I’ve been there,” says Sylvain, “so I totally get it. If there’s going to be anyone who is different, however, I imagine it’d be Seteth.”

A decent therapist is a dream for Felix, if he’s honest. He’s heard that there _are_ gems among them. Perhaps those gems would be ideal for him, a way to finally talk more about everything swirling around his head. Annette listens, as does Mercedes. Sylvain clearly does as well. But there’s only so much an average person can do; it’s not his friends’ duty for _them_ to give him therapy.

There’s simply a lot of fear behind being vulnerable to anyone, including those trained to listen to him. Plus, the finances. Although perhaps the remaining money given to him through his father’s death can be spared for this. He probably shouldn’t donate _all_ of it.

“I’ll think about it,” he says eventually, and truly means those words.

“Thank you. I’m glad.” Sylvain is leaning down to peer at an old pot in a glass case. It’s enjoyable watching him, and strangely comforting that this conversation is as normal to him as ever. “I’m not sure where I’d be without Seteth. Sure, a lot of my growth has been from me, and I don’t try and discredit that anymore … Most of the time I don’t, anyway. But Seteth has really helped set me on the right path.”

“I can only imagine how hard it’s been for you. What did …” Felix stops. “No, I shouldn’t ask.”

Sylvain straightens up, his smile reassuring. “Go ahead.”

“What did your parents do?”

“My mom died when I was pretty young, so nothing on her end. My father, meanwhile, ignored it until he stepped in one day. But he died a decade ago as well.”

“Oh.” Felix’s chest tightens with guilt. “I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s fine. I wasn’t close to him.” Still, Sylvain’s smile is a little strained.

“I don’t have parents either, if that’s any consolation.” _Great. Now you’re spinning it back on yourself. Can you even have one conversation where you’re not a total—_

“It’s always nice, to know you’re not alone,” says Sylvain. “I’m glad we met.”

“Oh. Yeah.” Felix feels his tension ease a little again. “Me too.”

That handsome smile on Sylvain’s face softens again. He turns, although not without an action causing Felix’s heart to leap in both nerves and joy: taking his hand as they walk through the museum.

  
  


* * *

  
  


Sylvain hums and taps his fingers against the steering wheel, driving Felix back home. The latter’s eyes are on his lap. Or, more specifically, the black panther toy sat on it. He’s not sure why they sell animal plushies at the museum’s gift store, but he couldn’t quite say no to Sylvain buying him one of the large cats.

One hand rests on the plush’s back. It’s probably his imagination, but he swears it tingles from Sylvain holding it not long before. Has he rewound back twelve years to when he was still in high school?

“Today’s been fun,” says Sylvain. “Thank you for suggesting the museum.”

“Not at all.” _Say something else, idiot._ But he’s still swept away by how … _comforting_ it had been, to have the warmth of Sylvain’s hand in his own.

Out of the corner of Felix’s eye, he can see the knowing look in Sylvain’s own pair. Goddamnit. He truly knows _everything._

“You’re surprisingly a nerd.”

Felix scoffs. “Hardly.”

“You practically swooned over those swords. Come on, when you were a kid, you swung an inflatable sword around and pretended you were Link.”

Felix stares at him. “Have you been stalking me?”

Sylvain laughs. “Darling, if I had been stalking you, I’d have sneaked in a kiss much sooner.”

“Well, you got there,” says Felix, “so congratulations.”

“Congratulations indeed.” Sylvain stops the car outside Felix’s apartment complex. “Here already.”

His disappointment is obvious—the date flew by, including the drive after. Felix isn’t sure he wants this to end, either.

“You could come inside?”

“While in the car?”

It takes Felix a few moments to process what Sylvain means, but he eventually snorts and gives Sylvain a shove. _Hard._ “Shut up. You know what I mean.”

Sylvain sniggers himself, which soon softens into a smile. “Are you sure?”

“We’ve known each other for months already. And I’ve been in your place.”

“Then lead the way.”

Felix’s ‘ _I’ve not been a rich kid for years and my apartment is embarrassingly cheap’_ anxiety isn’t as apparent; little by little, when his mental health allows, he’s been adding personal touches to the place. His landlord is fairly lenient, so when he has time, he’d like to get some fresh paint on the walls. But the tidying and some home décor he has bought for now has made an improvement.

The two clamber up the stairs leading to Felix’s floor. He takes out a key to unlock the door and gestures inside. “Age before beauty.”

“You know? You’re so pretty, I won’t even take offence.” Sylvain winks before stepping inside. Nerves swirl a little around Felix’s stomach by this point, but he ignores it, closing the door and bringing his gaze to Sylvain, who peers around after removing his shoes.

“It isn’t much,” says Felix, now doing the same one-handed.

“Nah, it’s lovely. Heh,” Sylvain points to a few cat ornaments lining a fake fireplace, “you really do like cats.”

“Yeah, yeah. Ironic, I know.”

“And this in the middle.” Sylvain now points to a little sword ornament, the blade resting across a miniature stand. Felix inwardly groans. He should have hidden that somewhere.

“I’m a sword nerd, yes.” To try and keep his eyes away from Sylvain and that little smirk, Felix settles the panther plush down on the coffee table.

“And I love it.” With an innocent hum and eyes flicking to the mirror above the fireplace, Sylvain adds, “Sure like all kinds of swords.”

“Oh, shut _up.”_ Still, Felix has to hold the back of his hand over his mouth for a moment, hiding the amused smile beneath. “Can I get you anything? Tea, coffee?”

“Tea would be nice, thank you.”

“You can get something on TV, if you want,” says Felix, gesturing to the television in front of a two-seated sofa. “I don’t have cable, but there’s Netflix on the PS4.”

“Sweet. Here we will be until the end of time, as we settle on something to watch.” Sylvain settles down on the sofa whilst Felix heads to the kitchen area. “You sure you don’t need help?”

“Nah, I’m good. As you said, you have a time-consuming quest.”

“I will need all the strength I have!” The starting music from the PS4 resounds. “So you’re a gamer too, huh?”

“Oh, yeah. I play all sorts. I noticed you had consoles in your place, too.”

“That’s right! We should play together sometime.”

“Mm.” Felix smiles to himself whilst picking a tea—he’s not sure why, but he feels as though Sylvain would like bergamot. “That’d be nice.”

There’s something else that Felix notices, too: Sylvain makes no comment on Felix’s gaming collection, despite how he’s voiced financial troubles before. He’s had this before with guys who visit. People don’t always realise the complications of one’s life, nor exactly how, when or why they have bought a luxury. He’s grateful that Sylvain has no intentions of questioning this.

Felix soon settles on the sofa besides Sylvain, placing two mugs of tea on the coffee table. Sylvain thanks him and picks up one of them. Blowing onto the liquid, taking a sip. Felix has made the right choice. Utter bliss breaks out on his face.

“Oh, this is my favourite!”

“Really? That’s a relief.” Felix has an epiphany, jumping back up to his feet and to the kitchen. “Hold on … I also have something spare, here.”

The two ate food in the museum’s café after their visit, although Felix is sure they can fit in something else. He takes a plate of cookies from the fridge and shuts the door.

“Oh! Baking again!” Sylvain exclaims.

“I’ve been practising an apple and cinnamon recipe at the bakery,” he says. “Had a few leftovers to bring home.”

“Heh, I really like that you can bake. It’s a little softness to go with that stern exterior of yours.”

“I’m not soft,” says Felix, sitting back down. The raised eyebrow makes him scoff. “What?”

“You are in a few ways, sweetheart. Now,” Sylvain points the remote at the television, “I found some anime, why don’t we watch that?”

“Sure. Maybe dubbed, just in case we start making out.”

Sylvain bursts into laughter. “Nothing like sheer honesty, I suppose.”

Still, there’s no making out just yet. The two do genuinely share an interest in the show. Sitting side-by-side, sipping tea and nibbling on cookies; there’s something about it all that makes it feel as though they’ve both known each other longer than these mere months.

Felix isn’t sure when it happens, or why it does so. But along the way, he’s found himself settling closer to Sylvain. An arm around his shoulders brings him closer.

“This okay?” Sylvain asks. Felix hums, resting the side of his head against Sylvain, wondering if it’s normal for his heart to race this much.

“Yeah. More than okay.”

And so they remain for more of the show. Perhaps the rapid beating of Felix’s heart is because he cannot remember the last time he cuddled with someone like this—away from Annette, at least. The two are close enough to do this together themselves. This is simply … a little different. _A lot_ different, even.

Is this what it means to have genuine feelings for someone?

“Don’t their throats ever ache terribly over constantly shouting their attacks?” asks Sylvain.

“They get used to it. But man, you’re just _asking_ for the opponent to know what you’re doing.”

“Right? They could just sidestep out of the way when they hear an attack is coming! Absolutely stupid.” Sylvain sniggers. “It’s also hilarious to imagine some poor voice actor screaming into a microphone.”

“Don’t forget the breathing noises and grunts. Honestly, they deserve way more credit.”

“Absolutely.”

Sylvain’s fingers are playing with Felix’s hair by now, running over his scalp and down the strands of his ponytail. He can’t help it. He hums appreciatively, sinking into Sylvain. Goddess. So many walls, however simple, are let down around this man.

“Have I told you that your hair is beautiful?”

“Yes. But I suppose I won’t complain over hearing it again.”

The kiss pressed to the top of his head is enough to surprise him. When he recovers, however, he straightens up, a hand cupping Sylvain’s face. Their lips are brought together. Of course it was bound to happen, sooner or later.

It’s soft at first. So surprisingly soft considering all the things this man can do. It only deepens when Felix’s hand trails over Sylvain’s leg, shuffling closer, and there are hands on his waist to bring him in. Sylvain’s tongue is captivating every time.

When the kiss breaks and Felix smiles, he wonders if that’s all. But there’s no resisting Sylvain’s own smile, how his eyes flicker from Felix’s own to his lips. Ah, screw it. No one who comes around to watch Netflix plans on doing so forever.

In the blur of an invigorating kiss, Felix finds himself sliding onto Sylvain’s lap without taking his lips away, facing him with arms looping around the other’s neck. Sylvain’s own hands are running down Felix’s back.

The kiss breaks, and Felix says, “You really are an ass guy,” when those hands reach his backside. Sylvain grins.

“What can I say? There’s so much to do with them.” Those hands squeeze, Sylvain leaning in and murmuring into his ear, “And it did look beautiful all red from my hand.”

Felix shudders from those words. His hips involuntarily slide forward, pressing their crotches close to one another’s. It sends shocks through him in an instant. Lips join together again, but only briefly before Sylvain parts with a bite of his bottom lip, leaving a kiss on his neck.

“Are we …” Felix inhales sharply over the light bite gifted to his collarbone. “Are we just making out?”

“All up to you, kitten.” Sylvain’s tongue meets the skin beneath Felix’s ear, sucking down. He _whimpers_ , the sound washing both embarrassment and arousal over him all at once. “What do _you_ want to do?”

Felix’s eyes close briefly, sliding his hips forward and back again, so the bulge in Sylvain’s trousers presses against his backside. He bites his lip. All his desires until now have been building, welcoming the spell Sylvain has put him under.

It scared him at first, and it still does—but now it causes far more than fear alone.

“I want you to fuck me.”

Blunt and to the point, which seems fitting for Felix. If Sylvain is surprised, it doesn’t show. He hums and plants a kiss to the side of Felix’s neck. “Right here and now?”

“Yes.”

“Then that’s what you’ll get.” Sylvain’s head lifts, their eyes meeting with thumbs trailing over Felix’s cheeks. An amused smile is on Sylvain’s face. “Won’t even have to move. There’s lube and condoms in the pocket of my jacket.”

Felix raises an eyebrow. “Seriously?”

“I own a BDSM club,” says Sylvain, reaching to his waist to untie the denim jacket there. “Is it surprising that I always have something on me?”

“Handcuffs included?”

“Not today. But I have everything else.” Sylvain presses his lips to Felix’s cheek, now fetching what he needs and placing them on the sofa besides them. “You sure about this? Not trying to please me?”

“I’m the one who asked you, not the other way around. Besides,” Felix’s voice drops in volume, his fingers running over Sylvain’s chest, “this is different. Everything is different to how it’s been until now.”

“Yeah?”

Felix hums. “I think I … I don’t know. But I know that sleeping with you isn’t just to combat numbness, rather than how it’s been before.” In fact, it’s this lack of numbness, feeling something again, that is encouraging him to ask for this in the first place.

Their kiss resumes now Felix has emphasised how certain he is, and Sylvain has done the same. Those skilled hands wander over him. He relaxes yet shivers beneath the touch all at once. The tongue inside his mouth captures his moan at the fingers that press against his entrance through his jeans. Soon, he can barely wait any longer, and his fingers are fumbling with the button of them.

“Sorry,” he says, noticing his weight is pressing down whilst doing so. “Not too heavy, am I?”

“Far from it.” Sylvain takes the waistband of Felix’s jeans to assist with pulling them down. Felix’s body sways to assist, a gasp escaping him when Sylvain’s crotch grinds against Felix’s, much less material in the way. “Mm, you really are gorgeous, baby,” says Sylvain, his hands squeezing at Felix’s backside again. Felix presses himself closer.

“Do that harder,” he says.

“Looks like I’m not the only one who enjoys touching you there so much,” says Sylvain. He obliges, Felix interrupting his smirk with a bite of his lip.

“ _So_ perceptive of you.”

Sylvain laughs. The sound causes such a swirl of joy in Felix’s chest, he cannot resist leaning in to bring their lips together once again.

He hums into the kiss when Sylvain’s fingers tug at Felix’s underwear. He sways his hips again to assist, and is … nervous, which is strange. He hasn’t felt nerves over sex itself in a long time. Not unless you count fear, at least.

Although it’s a nice kind. He knows this for certain.

“All right?” Sylvain says, pressing a kiss to the side of Felix’s neck. He raises his head with a nod.

“Not going to lie,” says Felix, “but I swear I’ve wanted this from you ever since I saw you with a set of damn handcuffs in your hand.”

Sylvain grins against Felix’s skin, pressing another kiss further down. “That attractive, am I?”

“Don’t go acting as though there’s not some kind of aura around you.”

“What kind of aura?” Once his hands have run over Felix’s backside, Sylvain starts preparing his fingers with the lube.

“Don’t make me explain that,” Felix grumbles.

“Another time, then. We have all the time in the world, after all.”

Sylvain’s fingers slip between the crevice of Felix’s ass cheeks. He shivers, thighs lifting him to grant Sylvain better access; a quiet moan over the fingertip pressing at his entrance. “Better not be a tease.”

“Oh, you know I am. But not right now. You sure you’re ready?”

“Yes.” He’s likely never been so ready for this in his entire life.

The lubed finger carefully slips inside. Testing Felix’s limits, it appears. It’s appreciated when he’s tense and tightening himself up more. But he exhales, remembering who this is; once Sylvain has eased himself into a rhythm, taking his time, Felix feels himself relaxing. A moan escapes his lips.

“That’s it,” he breathes.

“Good,” Sylvain says gently, his spare hand trailing over Felix’s thigh. “You’re relaxing, now.”

Sylvain picks up the pace. A gasp, Felix’s hands grasping tighter at Sylvain’s shirt. It’s good. Better than good, even. Especially when minutes later, after adding extra lube to it, Sylvain inserts a second finger.

Felix should have expected Sylvain to be absolutely perfect at using his fingers. Perhaps it’s simply still a shock, when he has never had someone ease into the process so smoothly before.

“Oh, Goddess.” Felix usually holds back his moans. Here, he swears every _word_ comes out in that way. “Th-that—”

“Feels good, doesn’t it, baby?”

Felix nods. “ _Yes.”_ And he has no qualms against answering enthusiastically, as much as it embarrasses him. He, after all, has never had a reason to be enthusiastic over this. He might as well bask in that now.

Their lips soon meet again. Felix can do little but melt beneath the tongue in his mouth, overtaken by the shocks of pleasure coursing through him—he can hardly fathom how Sylvain can use his fingers so perfectly. Even Felix cannot do it this well to himself, despite how in theory, he should understand his body more than anyone else can.

Sylvain seems urged on by every sound. He’s taking utter delight in the enjoyment of his partner, a clear source of arousal for him, and it only encourages Felix to not hide himself for once.

His legs are already trembling, erection aching, by the time Sylvain is done preparing him—although he refuses to let himself reach an orgasm already, forcing it back unlike in their second session. It was embarrassing enough that one time.

“All right, there?” Sylvain asks, a teasing tone in his voice. He’s once again able to read Felix perfectly, fingertip trailing up Felix’s erection and earning a moan.

“F-fine,” he says.

“Need me to—”

“Not yet. Just fuck me already.”

“You really are bossy, aren’t you?” Sylvain leans in, pressing a kiss beneath Felix’s ear. Hands squeeze at his backside. “That’s going to be fun to sort out in the future, you know.”

Felix shudders. He can only imagine. “For now, though?”

“For now, I’ll do exactly as you ask.”

Felix slides a little down Sylvain’s lap in order to grant him room to unfasten his own trousers. He pulls them down with his underwear, meeting Felix’s eyes when uncovering himself. Shit. It’s no wonder there’s a glint in Sylvain’s eye. He’s hardly lacking in that area.

“Surprised a stupidly flirtatious guy like you hasn’t gloated in that.”

Sylvain chuckles, patting Felix’s hips. “What matters more is what _I_ do to you, not something as simple as that.” He then reaches for a condom, lips pressing briefly against Felix’s. “I’ve never been so excited to be inside someone before. Hope you know that.”

Even if it’s a line Sylvain has probably used before, it still brings a strange mixture of emotions to Felix—lust, as expected, yet also a strange sense of satisfaction, as though he really is special. “Likewise.” And he means it completely on his end.

Felix’s hand assists in hardening Sylvain further, before Sylvain covers himself with the condom and begins to spread lube over his erection. The anticipation may very well have Felix’s heart beat straight out of his chest.

“Are you ready, baby?”

Felix nods. “More than ready.”

Hands take hold of Felix’s hips, guiding him closer. Felix lifts himself by his thighs. Eyes lock on Sylvain’s as he brings himself back down. The head of Sylvain’s dick presses into his entrance, a gasp escaping his lips.

“O- _oh—”_

“That sure is a cute sound.” Sylvain eases Felix down further, and further—certainly not taking Sylvain in his entirety yet, but rather allowing him to adjust. It’s still enough to earn a louder moan from Felix. “Yeah, you’re really enjoying that, aren’t you?”

Felix nods. Already breathless, it appears, as he says, “M-more,” he says. “Goddess, I need _more.”_

“Easy now, kitten.” Sylvain kisses Felix’s collarbone. He treads down, down, the tip of his tongue against a nipple. Felix’s back arches with a gasp. “You’re really fun, you know.”

“In … in what way?”

“You’re so responsive to everything.” The grip on Felix’s hips tightens. More of Sylvain’s length thrusts inside; Felix’s hand shoots to his mouth. “Are you usually like this?”

Felix shakes his head. He truly isn’t. “Just … _ah.”_ He interrupts himself by a slightly higher moan; Sylvain’s already found that perfect spot inside him. “J-just with you.”

_A bit like with everything else,_ he adds in his mind. How he’s been able to trust Sylvain unlike anyone else he’s ever had to trust before, how he has been greeted by emotions he cannot say he’s ever experienced. It’s strange. He’s already nearly in his thirties, sexual encounters in his past, and yet when he is with Sylvain … it’s as though he is experiencing so many firsts.

His fingers grasp tightly at Sylvain’s shirt when the pace inside him increases in speed. A whimper escapes his lips. Thighs clench around Sylvain’s, the latter’s mouth returning to Felix’s chest. It shouldn’t induce more of those whimpers, the first embarrassing enough as it is, but somehow, Sylvain can play his body unlike anyone else can.

“Goddess, you feel so good,” Sylvain breathes out. Teeth catch at the nipple he’s been sucking at, grinning against the skin from the jolt of Felix’s body. “And I can tell it’s the exact same for you.”

Felix nods. “C-can you— _ngh,_ can you go harder?”

“Sure, kitten?” Sylvain’s head rises, pressing a kiss to Felix’s temple. “How much harder? Because I can give this to you much more, if you want that.”

Goddess, Felix can only imagine. “Just a little more, I— _aah,_ oh, Goddess, Sylvain.” Felix’s head is leaning back before Sylvain has even gone through with this.

And when he does … The near scream Felix releases shocks him. But it doesn't matter as much as how _incredible_ Sylvain feels inside him. Both hands return to Felix’s hips, using them to bring him down onto Sylvain’s erection. He doesn’t even need Felix to assist. He tries, _terribly_ does he try, tensing the muscles of his legs to bring himself down and earn that pleasure. Yet they’re strangely weak. It’s as though all of this is so immense, _so_ much different than all Felix has ever had before, it’s difficult to even find the strength to respond.

This in itself is different. Riding someone in their lap has hardly been uncommon for Felix. Although usually, he needs at least some control. Maintaining his own pace. What happens when. Now, however, he allows his eyes to squeeze shut, arms wrapping tightly around Sylvain and his head leaning into the other’s shoulder, and just … feel.

He’s guilty about it. Even murmuring, “S-sorry,” as though he’s not allowed to simply enjoy himself.

Sylvain’s lips press on the side of Felix’s neck. “This is some of the best sex I’ve ever had, even when it’s completely vanilla,” he says. “There is— _fuck.”_ A groan from Sylvain’s lips. “There’s nothing to be sorry for.”

It’s not enough to convince Felix fully, although he’s too swept away by pleasure to care. A trembling arm is soon reaching down to himself. The bite of his lip isn’t enough to stifle a louder moan from his hand stroking down his erection.

He wonders if he’ll be allowed to do this in the future, wonders what other rules may come into play—for now, Sylvain’s hand joins Felix’s. His hips take over the loss of control from this hand.

“You’re taking me so well, kitten,” Sylvain murmurs. The pet name causes Felix to shiver more than ever. “So good.”

“ _Sylvain_.” It’s a whine, Felix astonished he can create such a sound. His trembling increases. Thighs practically aching from his building need of release. It soon arrives with a convulsive shake of his body and choked cry from his lips, head falling limp against Sylvain’s shoulder.

“Oh Goddess,” he breathes out. “Sh-shit—”

“All right, Felix?” Sylvain’s voice is barely above a murmur, kiss planted on the top of his head.

“Mm.”

“A little more, then I’m done.”

Sylvain is true to his word; he continues his thrusts inside Felix until his own climax arrives with a moan. The grip on Felix’s hips tightens temporarily before loosening. Sylvain’s head leans against Felix’s, planting another kiss against it, before he pulls out.

“Oh, wow,” says Felix, before Sylvain even gets the chance. “That was great.”

“That’s the highest possible compliment, coming from you.”

“I haven’t got the energy to even _try_ and lie about this.”

This truly has managed to take him out, somehow. Just a little sex on the sofa. He’s lifted by his armpits and placed next to Sylvain, breathing out deeply when Sylvain removes the condom and reaches for a packet of wipes. The two are soon cleaning themselves off. Felix’s eyes flicker to the TV, and he chuckles.

“It’s already on episode four. Didn’t we start as the second one was ending?”

“That’s long for you?” asks Sylvain, glancing at the TV himself. “I can go for much longer than that.”

Of course he can. “We’ll look at that in the future, then. For now,” Felix pulls his underwear and jeans back into place, “I have to try and accept that you’re the best person I’ve slept with.”

Perhaps it’s the high from coming down from such a great orgasm that allows him to be so honest. It was the best he has experienced, no doubt about it. And Sylvain doesn’t even seem to gloat in this.

Rather, he simply seems … happy. Genuinely happy, to know Felix has enjoyed himself. “I’m giving you no less than you deserve, Felix. In fact, there’s still so much more I want to give you.”

Still getting down from his high, Felix cannot help a small smile. It only grows when an arm loops around his shoulder and brings him closer. Cuddling after sex. It’s taken a long time to have this as well.

“Sylvain?” he says quietly moments later.

“Yes?”

“I think …” He licks around his lips, swallows. Better now than ever, when he’s this relaxed and sleepy enough to not know better. “I think I have feelings for you.”

It’s as though a weight has been lifted, yet his heart plummets from nerves at once. He likes to imagine he’s not the only one to feel this way. A museum date, after all? He doubts that is a common thing for Sylvain to have with those he does this with. But still. There’s going to be fear, when you know that someone is used to all of this.

Sylvain has a world unlike any other. What is Felix giving him that no one else can?

A million thoughts in a single second. They vanish momentarily when there’s lips against the top of Felix’s head again. “Yeah? Because I feel the same.”

Felix almost shoots away from Sylvain in shock. He at least peers up, wondering if his face is becoming as red as it feels. “Uh … What?”

“You just expressed feelings for me, and now you’re acting surprised over the answer?” Sylvain teases, laughing at Felix’s scowl.

“Obviously, idiot. I wasn’t—I didn’t think it’d be possible for you to do so as well.”

“Not sure how you can think that way. I’ve told you time and time again that there’s something different about you.”

Felix hums, his following words barely above a murmur. “I guess I thought you were just saying that.”

“No, not at all. Definitely not.” Sylvain pulls Felix closer, the latter’s arms looping around his waist in response. He’s grateful for the perfect opportunity to bury his face in Sylvain. It gives him a chance to hide it. “I have to admit that it’s scaring me a bit. I haven’t felt this way in a while, and it’s going to take me time to get used to it.”

“Yeah, I understand. Me too.” Because, as much as he feels this strongly for Sylvain, the aspect of giving his all into this, being with him, is still terrifying in its own way. “I haven’t even been looking for this at all.”

“I haven’t, either. I’ve been happy enough with being casual, but … well, maybe that’s the best way. Maybe you’re not supposed to find someone to have feelings for on purpose.”

Felix hums. Finding joy by chance does seem to be a common theme by now. Never did he expect to meet someone like Sylvain, let alone fall for him. It’s terrifying, it worries him—but, perhaps above all else, it only adds to the increasing excitement he has felt these last few months.

Although not a cure for numbness, it is certainly helping him to feel alive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you as always for reading! The next chapter is my favourite from this fic, so I hope you're looking forward to it.


	10. Destroying Walls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No matter what he thinks of himself, Felix is growing each and every day; attending therapy and, little by little, trusting Sylvain more than he has ever done so before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the love on the last chapter! For some reason, I was a bit anxious over posting it, so I'm glad that it was enjoyable.
> 
> This one is my favourite in the fic, so I do hope you enjoy it. Please bear these additional warnings in mind: mentions of homophobia/mentioned slur (thought, not spoken or used maliciously), guilt over death, discussion on self harm and mentions of drug/substance abuse.

Felix breathes out shakily. A single leg jitters, tapping his Converse against the floor. He glances at the clock. No, they’re not running late. Felix simply arrived too early out of nerves, and now feels as though he’s been waiting a lifetime.

It’s taken a month to work himself up to get here, yet the hands in his lap still tremble after all his preparation. _Pathetic,_ he thinks to himself, which is possibly one of the reasons why he should be here in the first place. After all, he knows there is nothing wrong with those nerves, deep down. They’re to be expected from someone who has difficulty opening up, and has endured many negative experiences from doing so.

“ _He’s great at this, I assure you,”_ Sylvain had said. “ _I wouldn’t be where I am now without him.”_

Felix believes him, of course. These last several weeks have continued their journey. Delving into more together physically, testing everything little by little like they have always done—they have not reached further than foreplay yet when engaging in BDSM, but have still grown closer. This includes emotionally as the two learn more about each other. Nothing serious, no more deep and dark secrets of past abuse and deceased family members, but those little things that are all part of someone’s character. Everything which builds up a person.

Perhaps this is one of the things encouraging Felix to pluck up the courage to see a therapist. Annette has also been glad for Sylvain’s suggestion. She recommended Felix going to therapy in the past, although she and Mercedes didn’t have quite the same suggestions; there’s something about how Sylvain has described Seteth which makes this man in particular seem different, enough for Felix to finally make this step again.

Still, Felix is frightened, and seems to endure an eternity of waiting before the door finally opens and a male voice calls, “Felix Fraldarius?”

Felix shoots to his feet. His eyes land on the man leaning around a doorway. A smile is on his face, already welcoming. Strangely enough, the fact that this man has green hair is comforting. As though some hair dye makes him more of a real person, rather than some robot who only sees money in their patients.

“My name is Doctor Cichol, as I’m sure Sylvain has told you, although you can call me Seteth,” says Seteth when the door closes after them. His hand reaches out to Felix; the latter takes it. “It is a pleasure to meet you.”

“And you.” The sophisticated voice makes him feel mildly uneasy, although Felix is sure that’s simply his anxiety trying to find fear in absolutely everything.

“Take a seat here.” Seteth gestures to a two-seat cream sofa, separated from an armchair with a table in the middle. Felix does so, glancing down at what occupies this table. Great, a box of tissues. He’s already embarrassed enough over crying in front of Sylvain that time. “Can I get you a drink? Tea, coffee?”

“Just water is fine.”

Seteth takes a filtered jug from a fridge and pours Felix a glass. “Thank you,” says Felix, realising how dry his mouth feels. He takes a sip whilst Seteth sits down. “Has Sylvain told you anything about me?” he questions after doing so. Sylvain said he’d give a few details about him, so he doesn’t have to completely introduce himself from scratch. He’s grateful for this, although it does leave him feeling cautious about how much Seteth already knows.

“Yes. He told me you have faced a couple of similar problems to him, as well as how you are also an LGBT+ individual.”

So nothing too concrete, then. “I see.”

“We shall get to this, but first things first. Would you like to tell me a little about yourself? What do you do?”

“I work in a bakery,” says Felix. “Only for … just under two months, by now. I wasn’t employed for quite a while.”

“May I ask why?”

“I struggled to find places. I was fired from my last job. Unfair dismissal.” Felix’s eyes flicker down at the pen which is writing. He swallows, wondering if this is a good idea after all, to be telling his problems to a complete stranger. But he wants to try for Sylvain, after all the effort that man has given him. “Uh, this will all stay confidential, right? You won’t send this to anyone?”

“Certainly. I have some forms here you read through, if you like.” Seteth points to some pieces of paper. “Unless I see you as an immediate danger to yourself or others, or you have given me consent, I am legally obligated to keep everything you say to me in this room.”

“Ah. That’s good, then.”

“You are safe here.” A smile, before Seteth asks, “You mentioned an unfair dismissal?”

“Yes. Uh, my father died. End of last year. And I needed time off work.”

“I am sorry to hear that. I understand how loss feels.” He must do, judging by the genuine emotion in his eyes; Felix doesn’t remember that in other therapists he’s tried to see. “Did you try to take legal action?”

Felix shakes his head. “It seemed too much of a bother to handle, when I was hardly in the right frame of mind.”

“That is quite understandable. Your mental well-being comes first, and such a situation is stressful to handle in general, never mind when you are also grieving. May I ask how he died?”

No words come out when Felix’s mouth opens. He still cannot say it, even now. Not with the heavy amount of guilt, of hatred towards himself, still weighing down on his heart. Seteth seems to understand his silence.

“Forgive me for the intrusion.” Another note; Felix imagines it’s now a goal of Seteth’s to acquire this information. Felix tries to remind himself that this will not be used against him. “I imagine there might have been financial struggle, having to pay for your father’s funeral while also losing your job.”

“Uh, kind of. Not really with that in particular. It’s …” Felix’s gaze fixes on the forms he’s flicking through. He’s not truly absorbing any of the information. “He left me a lot of money. We were quite a rich family. I used that to pay for the funeral and donated a huge chunk of it. The leftovers are in a bank, if I desperately need them.”

“You did not want the money to keep you stable, as you found a new job?”

“No.”

“Is there a reason for that?”

Many, Felix thinks. “I didn’t get along with him, and so preferred not to use his money.”

“But his death was still hard on you.”

“Of course it was.” Felix’s voice has increased in volume. He’s not sure what he is defensive over. The accusation of him disliking his father enough to not care for his death, perhaps. Or it could be as simple as Felix deeming it urgent to correct Seteth.

“I apologise. I understand this is a sensitive topic. We do not have to centre on this too deeply, if you are not comfortable with that just yet.”

“Good.” Felix’s eyes are averted from Seteth, resting one leg over the other; the more tightened posture of his body makes him feel safer, rather than having himself be open. “I’m sure you are also about to ask if I didn’t get along with him because of my sexuality. That’s not the case.”

“You are right. And that is good for me to know, thank you.” Another note. “You say sexuality. Are you gay, bisexual? Anything else?”

“I’m gay.”

“Has it caused any other issues for you?”

“Kind of. Mostly internal.” _And the so-called straight guys who say they can’t believe they slept with a fag._

“Internal?”

“Usual stuff, I suppose. I don’t know. It’s complicated.” Felix rubs the back of his neck, still avoiding Seteth’s eyes at all costs. “Can we not talk about this?”

Out of the corner of Felix’s own eye, he sees a smile; it’s reassuring enough for him to feel less on edge, although only slightly. “Of course. There’s nothing I’m trying to force out of you, especially not today. I am also curious about Sylvain saying you have dealt with similar issues. But I wish to not pressure too much out of you.”

It already feels as though Felix has said more than enough. The whole story of his trauma, even if he knows this is far from the case—there is an endless amount of things he has yet to say on this matter. He’s not sure how expressing this so far has made him feel. Relieved? Even more tense? He has to admit he’s probably had to speak about some of this for a while.

And he really does want to make an effort for Sylvain. “No, it’s all right. He’s probably talking about … well, how I’ve had a bit of an unhealthy sex life.”

_Scratch, scratch_ of that pen. “May I ask in what context?”

“It’s not as though I’ve slept around a huge lot. Just on occasion. I was simply not as safe as I should have been.”

“Is there a reason for that?”

“I don’t know.” _No, you do._ “To feel something, I guess. But I didn’t care if I got hurt. Sometimes I wanted to be, as if I deserved it.”

“So, self harm.”

“What?” Felix blinks. “No, I don’t cut myself.” _Anymore,_ he almost adds, although stops himself in time.

“There are other ways to harm yourself than cutting or burning.” Seteth’s voice is gentle as he explains this. “Purposefully putting yourself at risk, even if that is from another person’s hands, is harming one’s self as well.”

He probably knows this, although the specific words of ‘self harm’ have simply caught him off guard. “Fantastic.”

“It is nothing to be ashamed of, and is more common than you may think. Besides, you have spoken about this in the past tense. You make it sound as though you have not been doing this to yourself as of late.”

“No, not really.” It’s surprised him, actually. Whatever he has with Sylvain has filled that empty space in his heart, far more than any one-night stand has—he’s not thought much about going back to that, when he knows it will be nowhere near as fulfilling.

“That is great progress you have made for yourself.”

“I … I guess.” It feels strange to be complimented on something like this, although rather pleasant as well. It reminds him of when his father or brother praised him for stopping his childhood tears. So stupid in hindsight, but meaningful in the moment.

Seteth smiles. “And you should be proud. This is far from an easy step to make." Seteth glances at the clock hanging on a wall. "I think that is all we need to speak of today.”

“That’s it?” Felix checks the time as well, and indeed, the two have filled their appointment slot. This simply felt like so … little. He thought he’d have to describe his entire life story.

“That is all, yes. I do not want to ask you to speak of any matters you may need to discuss, before you are ready. Although before we finish, is there anything you need to tell me at this moment in time?"

There are many issues swirling around in his mind that he knows he should tell him, one day. But at the moment, all he wants is to have a break from all of this. “Uh, no. I’ve just been anxious about this appointment.”

“Do you have anxiety?” Felix nods. “Have you considered medication for it? Mind you, it does not stop the anxiety, and everyone is different in regards to medication. But it may be of use.”

“I don’t know. I’ve got on fine without it.” Well, if he was fine, he would hardly be here in a therapist’s office, thankful they haven’t dug too deep into trauma. “I mean … I guess I’ve never considered it much.”

“There is no obligation to take it. However, we could start you on a low dosage and build from there, or try something else, if need be.”

He contemplates this for a moment, before he nods. “Sure. Might as well try.”

He’s soon given a prescription for the medication. A shake of each other’s hands, good-natured farewell, and Felix is off.

_Huh,_ he thinks to himself when he emerges from the building, hit with rays of summer’s sunshine. _I guess that wasn’t really as bad as I thought it’d be._

  
  


* * *

  
  


With a large exhale of breath, Felix leans back on his sofa, thanking Mercedes for the cup of tea handed to him. It’s warm and welcoming in his hands. Necessary, because for some reason, he ended up shedding some tears when he arrived home. How humiliating.

He has not told Annette and Mercedes this part. It’s not too important; perhaps finally letting go of some thoughts, which have been heavy on his mind, has induced those waterworks. He supposes it makes complete sense for it to be this way, as frustrating as it is.

And so, he has decided it’s pointless to tell them this specifically. However, the moment they knew he was at least unsettled after the appointment, they bounced around to his apartment without a second thought.

And Mercedes has made him _tea,_ in his own home. It’s like having a mother.

“It’s been too long since the two of us have been around at your place!” exclaims Annette, resting back on Felix’s sofa with her arms behind her head. “Not much has changed, though. I like that.”

“It’s rather neat, too,” says Mercedes, settling herself on the arm of the sofa. She brings her own mug to her lips in order to take a sip.

“I got into the habit of being tidy, I guess. Cluttered spaces make me anxious sometimes.” Besides, it seems better on his part, if he can make a cheap apartment he is renting look homely. “How have you both been? Not that I don’t see Annette most days in work.”

Annette grins. “Well, regardless, I’ve been good! Great, even. Things have been going well lately. For both of us.” Her eyes flicker to Mercedes, who bears a smile of her own.

“Yes, and that is why I am well, too,” she says. “We may have found a child who is a perfect fit for our family.”

“Oh, that’s wonderful news.” The process can be lengthy; Felix knows that sometimes, in order to find the most suitable child to adopt, it can take years of waiting for them. Although Annette and Mercedes having no qualms against race, gender or disability, certainly gives them wider options. “Have you met them, yet?”

“Yes, and he is the _cutest_ thing!” Annette coos, hands cupping her cheeks. “He has the most lovely brown eyes, and dimples when he smiles—he’s a little shy, but it felt like he was warming up to us quite quickly.”

“He will be able to visit our home shortly, as we see if we are indeed a good fit for him after all,” says Mercedes.

“That’s wonderful,” says Felix, smiling. “I’m happy for you both. Be sure to keep me updated.”

Annette says, “As long as you bake him those special cookies you’ve been making for the bakery. Mm … those have been great.”

“I will have to give you some more lessons, to truly bring out this apparent potential you have,” says Mercedes.

“Mm.” Felix’s smile softens a little. “That’d be great. We have to bake together in general, too. I know I’ve been distant since my father died.”

A momentary silence follows these words. Annette and Mercedes seem to try and hide the way they glance at each other, although Felix far from minds them doing so. He understands it completely. Even simply saying those words have been difficult for him. Somehow, however, finally saying it aloud again to Seteth has brought down a barrier, at least to some degree.

It still causes his chest to tighten. But simply processing that it has happened, and saying it has done so, is improvement in itself.

“How have you been with that, Felix?” Annette asks. “You’re not still … blaming yourself, are you?”

Felix shrugs. “Maybe a little. But not so much that it dawns on me every second of every day, so that’s a perk.”

“You know that we’ll keep telling you over and over that it isn’t, until the day you believe it. Don’t you?”

He does. And whilst his initial instincts are to snap and grow defensive, he’s doing his best not to. Deep down, he knows this is something he has to accept; some things are simply meant to be, and trying to find a cause like this is not always the reasonable approach.

Sometimes you simply have to process pain and allow it help you grow, not fall.

  
  


* * *

  
  


It’s amusing how Felix’s visits to Sylvain, with certain events in mind, begin with something like _this._ Normality. Simply sitting on Sylvain’s bed with him, both resting back against the headboard. Felix’s head has managed to fall onto Sylvain’s shoulder along the way, somehow. It’s simply too inviting to not place it there.

They talk, as they always do. It’s nice. Frightening as well, however, with the way Felix came into Sylvain’s life to explore something new, and found himself doing so emotionally as well as physically.

He supposes he’s not used to being treated like a person.

“It’s been too _warm.”_

“We live in a cold country,” says Felix, amused.

“Yes, and I know it’s still cooler here than other places, but—Goddess. Still warm.” Sylvain lets out a sigh, leaning his head back further against the headboard. “I used to live right in the north of Faerghus, you see. And it’s much colder up there.”

“Huh. I used to live a bit further up, too. I guess not as far.” Felix notices fingers brushing lightly over his upper arm. “All teasing aside, I do understand what you mean. I’m not the best with heat. Although I’m not that great if it’s _too_ cold, either.”

“That sounds chaotic.”

“Such is my life, I suppose.” Felix smiles at Sylvain’s chuckle. “What made you move?”

“That whole business with Miklan. I wanted a fresh start away from where I used to live.”

“Sorry for making you dwell on this.”

“No, it’s fine. I want to talk more about this to you.” There’s a pause. Those fingers continue to trace circles on Felix, arm bringing him a little closer. As though Sylvain is glad to have Felix close to him, to listen. “I don’t think I ever talked about why he's in prison, did I?”

Felix shakes his head. “I never wanted to force it out of you. But if you want to tell me, you can do so.”

“Of course I do. You’ve put down so many walls for me, that it’s only fair I do the same.” He’s quiet for a moment, clearly contemplating his thoughts. “Like I mentioned on that date, his abuse contributed to his sentence. Basically, Miklan fell into substance abuse fairly young. He was never treated as well as me. Fell into the wrong crowds at school, getting into trouble—though I was hardly a golden child, I was a lot better behaved in comparison, so my parents doted on me more.”

“I imagine he didn’t like that,” says Felix. “I mean, he was older, wasn’t he? So it would have felt like getting cast aside for the younger son.”

“Exactly. The things that my parents—or parent, I should say, as my mom died when I was pretty young—wasn’t really the most devoted to us as it is. That’s often the case when you’re a rich kid.” Sylvain pauses. His fingers trail absent-mindedly over Felix’s leg, as though the feel of him grounds Sylvain. “So Miklan getting that more really made him despise me, which is why I reckon he was abusive. Getting into bad crowds in school led to more, and he ended up in dangerous circles with drugs. I don’t know much about it, but it was bad.”

“I take it that’s why he was arrested.”

“Almost. A group he was in killed a guy. Something about him trying to scam them or whatever.”

Felix’s eyes grow wide. He straightens up from Sylvain to look back at him directly. “Holy shit.”

“Right? Dad and I were questioned about it, and, well,” he rubs the back of his neck, “I guess talking to a policeman about Miklan made me just want to … say everything. I had the evidence; my best friend, Dimitri, helped me gather it over the years, trying to gently encourage me to report Miklan. So I gave it, and he was arrested. Then I moved out, and popped myself all the way over here with Dimitri, the moment I was old enough and had my plans in place.”

“I’m—Goddess. I barely know what to say.” Felix can only stare for a moment, at the face he’s come to know so well. His heart hammers with anger and admiration alike. “So you built this whole life here after that. Almost alone.”

“Not quite alone. I had friends, not just Dimitri alone, even though he helped a lot. And I was really lucky, as my father gave me a lot of financial support. Then I inherited his money when he died, and … yeah.” Sylvain waves his hand to the room around him. “That’s how I was able to land myself this nightclub, as well as the work I’ve done for years. Sort of like building something I love on top of all that happened before.”

Even with such heavy emotions dwelling on the air, Sylvain manages a smile. It tugs at Felix’s heartstrings unlike anything has ever done so before. His hands reach to Sylvain’s face, cupping either cheek.

“You’re incredible.”

Sylvain chuckles. “That sure is high praise from you.”

“Yes, well, I mean it. You’ve—there was something about you, when I first saw you that day. But seeing all you have done, and the help you provide for others after moving on from that, it’s …” Felix clears his throat, unsure whether to smile or avert his eyes, no longer able to manage eye contact. He does both. “It’s something else. Truly.”

“Yeah? I’m glad you think so.”

“I _know_ as such. You should be proud of what you’ve accomplished.”

“I am. Never used to be, but I am now.” Felix meets Sylvain’s eyes again. The smile on that face is no longer forced; rather, genuine and bright. “It took time to manage being proud of myself. I used to downplay myself a lot, act like I’m just this dumb guy who’s not really good for anything. But I know better than that, now.”

“Good.”

Felix leans in to bring his lips to Sylvain’s. The latter’s body immediately relaxes. His touch runs up Felix’s arms, brushing over his shoulders. Felix’s remains on Sylvain’s face. Soft, tender, all the things that Sylvain has been able to bring out of him.

Minutes pass before Felix is chuckling, hands brought away from Sylvain to tuck his hair behind his ears. “It’s funny, because I was supposed to be coming over for … you know.”

“Oh, yeah. I totally forgot.”

“No, you didn’t. I can see that look in your eyes.”

Sylvain laughs. “I know, I was joking. But hey—talking to you and everything really is a distraction. You know I like spending time with you, away from everything else. Still, if that’s what you want, then we can go for it.”

Felix hums. “I was thinking about the blindfold thing.”

Those fingers are on Felix again, fluttery strokes across his knee. “Yeah? Are you comfortable with that?”

“I believe so. I want to try it.” Felix chuckles. “I know it’s stupid that I haven’t yet. Such a simple part of all this, and yet—”

“Hey, now. It’s definitely not stupid. You have struggles around it that are understandable.” The hand on Felix’s knee squeezes. “But I’ve got you. You’re safe here.”

“I know.” He has for a while now, but that sense of safety when he is with Sylvain only grows stronger.

“I was thinking if you’re fine with it, we can try something a bit different with restraints. You’ve only had your wrists tied together so far—how do you feel about me tying them to the bedposts instead?”

“Oh, uh, that’s fine.” Felix glances at them. He’s certain he has had multiple dreams of it already. “Isn’t too big of a step.”

“You sure?”

Felix knows Sylvain is asking this because of Felix’s previous justification in his head: how he could use his hands if necessary. That is taken away completely if they are tied against something. “Yes, it’s fine. I know you’ll stop if I needed you to.”

“Always, beautiful. In that case, would you mind undressing?”

Felix shakes his head. He reaches for the hem of his T-shirt, shuffling to the side to grant Sylvain room to slide off the bed. “How far will you go?”

“As far as you want me to.”

“I’m not sure if I’m ready for … yeah.” He’s been close, but every time he imagines giving himself to Sylvain completely when in that state of vulnerability, he has frozen. “That might change, who knows? But at the moment—”

“We’ll take this as an amber situation. I’ll be cautious and not go too far, too quickly, all right?”

“Yeah. That sounds …” His words drift off when he notices how Sylvain has removed his shirt. Goddess, that back. “That sounds good.”

“That enthralled by me, huh?”

“Shut up.”

Felix can sense Sylvain’s grin. He returns with rope in his hands. And no matter how many times Felix sees him like this, he never loses that sense of anticipation building in his chest, nor is he ever unimpressed by how _natural_ Sylvain always seems to be.

It makes Felix, strangely vulnerable whilst he’s naked, experience a surge of nerves—but it’s all in a way that excites him, not the fear he has always known.

“Usual drill with ropes, all right? I use the same kind of method than when your wrists are getting bound together. The knots centre in the middle, so your wrists don’t hurt against the iron.”

Sylvain begins with Felix’s right wrist first. For some reason, now he feels the coolness of the bedpost, he truly processes how they’re doing this here, in Sylvain’s space. There’s something intoxicating about that. And perhaps a bed is enjoyable, with how their first time sleeping together had been on Felix’s sofa.

Soon, both wrists are restrained. “How’s that?” asks Sylvain.

“It’s fine.” Felix tugs at them, and as expected, that familiar sense of arousal from being captive under Sylvain’s hands returns to him. “Great, even.”

“You’re not uncomfortable?”

Surprisingly, he’s not. Nervous, yes, but certainly not uncomfortable. Perhaps the two really have done this enough for him to trust Sylvain more and more. Felix shakes his head, eyes closing when Sylvain’s lips return to his briefly.

Hands over his body, a little nip at his lip, is enough to have him subtly squirm and try to press his body closer to Sylvain’s. There’s a smile on the latter’s face when the kiss breaks.

“I’ve noticed that you’ve been growing a little more submissive, the more we do this,” he says. Felix grumbles, eyes averted to the side.

“And what of it?”

That smile remains, although there’s something else behind it, now. Especially when Sylvain’s fingers tilt his chin up and their eyes meet. Felix gulps.

“It’s been obvious that you’re starting to fall more into Dom and sub play. But perhaps we should consider this more. Keep that little mouth of yours in check.”

Shit. Felix is speechless when a thumb trails over his bottom lip. Eyes back on Sylvain’s, now unable to tear away. Sylvain is waiting, as he always is to ensure Felix is comfortable, although tension still weighs heavily in the air. Perhaps it is supposed to. After all, he’d be nowhere near as excited if that wasn’t there.

But he’s a little too nervous for words. The tongue he licks over that thumb should be enough, never once bringing his eyes away from Sylvain’s.

It is, judging from the smile alone. “Good boy. Are you still okay for me to blindfold you?”

“Yes.”

A kiss is planted against Felix’s forehead before Sylvain shifts away. He opens the drawer’s nightstand, revealing black leather. So simple, merely a little material. But it’s enough to make Felix’s heart pound louder.

“I’ll have to untie your hair. Is that okay?”

Sylvain has yet to see Felix’s hair loose, he realises. It’s been tied during all their sessions so far, Sylvain easily able to make use of the ponytail to tug on. Hell, Felix didn’t even like untying it when the two finally had their first time together.

To anyone else, it’s such a tiny thing. But it’s yet another wall to climb for him.

“Is there something wrong with that?”

Felix shakes his head. “Well, kind of. It’s—I worry I look too much like my father when my hair is loose. So I always keep it tied around others.”

“I understand. But you know that I will only see you, regardless if I had known what your father looked like or not.”

He can believe that, when those brown eyes are so captivated by him. “True. You can untie it.”

“Certain?”

“Going to be hard getting a blindfold on otherwise, right?”

Sylvain chuckles. “As long as you’re sure.”

His fingers carefully slide beneath the hair tie. He pulls out the ponytail, allowing strands of navy to cascade down to Felix’s shoulder blades. His eyes close briefly. So many steps to being vulnerable today, it seems. Although this part seems so trivial in comparison to everything else, he almost feels silly.

“Goddess, Felix. You’re absolutely beautiful.”

Felix opens his eyes, chuckling when he sees Sylvain’s face. He’s absolutely mesmerised. “It’s just some hair.”

“You must know how lovely it is. Besides, it’s the trust in me I find beautiful, too.” Sylvain picks up the blindfold, eyes seeking confirmation from Felix. When he receives this in the form of a nod, he pulls the blindfold around Felix’s eyes, the latter’s breath hitching at the sudden darkness. “All right?”

“I don’t know,” he admits. Lips press against his cheek.

“Breathe. You’re safe with me.”

Felix nods, resting his head back with an exhaled breath. He tries to focus on his other senses now his sight has been taken. How evident the strokes against his skin are, Sylvain’s breaths, murmured words. Hell, he’s sure he could even smell more once he adjusts to this.

It’s nerve-wracking, as everything has been so far. But not so much that he wants it to be taken off immediately.

“I’m okay.”

“Truly?”

“Yes. I’m just anxious.” Felix jumps a little over a hand cupping his face. “See? Like that.”

“I understand even more now, about why this has been a difficult step for you. It’s another essence of being vulnerable, right? The fact that you can’t see what I’m doing, and have to put trust in me?”

He always understands Felix so well, it’s almost frightening. “Mm. And simply not knowing what you will do.”

“That’s also something which is supposed to make this arousing for you.” Felix might not be able to see it, but he can certainly hear the grin in Sylvain’s voice. “We’re going to start slow, okay? And any time we need to stop, tell me.”

“Yes. Okay.”

“And don’t forget your manners.” A hand is trailing over Felix’s hip; he shudders when it squeezes at an ass cheek. “Because I think we’re at a stage now where you would welcome punishment for doing that, baby.”

Felix swallows, trying to think of some kind of witty remark, although draws a blank. He only wants to feel. To obey, in fact, even if it's difficult for him to comprehend. “I understand.”

The bed is pressed by Sylvain’s weight as he seems to reach for something else. Felix startles over something … strangely fluffy, stroking over his chest.

“What is that?”

“A tickler. Do you remember me talking about it?”

Felix nods. He inhales as it traces down his torso, over his stomach and towards his abdomen. It’s … incredible, how much he _can_ feel it. Almost ticklish, inducing shivers from him.

“I want you to focus on how it feels. You can do so more when you can’t see, right?”

“Mm. It’s—” he has to hold back a laugh when it runs up the curve of his waist, “kind of ticklish. Although I think it might also be the nerves.”

“Talk to me about that.” The tickler is trailing higher, over Felix’s collarbone. “How are those nerves, now?”

“I think it’s more from anticipation. I don’t—” He squirms when he feels the material stroke over a nipple. Light, teasing. Enough to have taken away his words.

“You can’t see what I’m going to do to you, can you? You feel nervous from knowing you’re at another’s mercy.”

“Mm.” Felix jolts when the tickler reaches his other nipple, gasping. His legs press together. “Is … is this supposed to arouse me? Because it’s relaxing, and it’s barely anything, and yet—”

“You’re enjoying it this much? With the blindfold, too?”

“Yeah, the blindfold is … It adds. Definitely.” He finds himself squirming more whilst wearing it, as though the additional movement makes up for how he’s unable to observe Sylvain’s actions. Perhaps he also enjoys the sense of helplessness.

_Helplessness._ How much has he fallen?

“This can be quite good to tease too, you know.”

Felix jolts when it reaches his hipbones. So light, but so _electrifying_ when stroking over a sensitive area. His fingers wrap around the bedposts, head resting on his side. Still squirming.

“Lower,” he says. Perhaps too bossily, for Sylvain’s spare hand collides with the side of his backside. He yelps, perhaps out of shock more than anything else—it didn’t hurt all that much.

“What did I say?”

The softness of that voice still has an air of authority, warning Felix. It causes him to bite his lip. “Sorry.”

“You can apologise by asking more nicely.” The tickler draws a line over to Felix’s other hipbone. Lower, over his abdomen, but still not low _enough._ He releases a near whine. “Where, Felix?”

“Y-you know where.”

“I may have an idea.” If only Felix’s eyes weren’t covered, so he could cast a glare over that near-mocking tone. He moans softly when the ticker brushes against the base of his increasing erection. “Here?”

“ _Yes,_ of course I—” Another slap. Felix bites his lip, wriggling when he realises the tickler has been lifted away from him. “Don’t take it—I’m sorry, please.”

“Please? Please what?”

“Please touch me there.” His voice is quiet, although with far less animosity; he cries when the tickler finds the head of his dick. “Oh, _Goddess—”_

“I can tease you as much as I want to, when you’re like this. I could keep going on, and on, until your legs are shaking and you’re begging for more. How does that make you feel?”

“I-I—” Felix’s body twists, legs rising as it continues to tease. Although perhaps Sylvain’s words are arousing him most of all. “I like it.”

“You enjoy being vulnerable to me, don’t you?”

Felix nods. “I want … I want to submit to you.”

A brief pause. “And you’re not saying that to simply please me?”

“No, I really …” Felix inhales sharply when the tickler trails back up his body. “I mean it. I don’t—I don’t know if I can resist doing so.”

He feels Sylvain press closer to him before the lips against his neck. Trailing up to his ear, a light nip at the lobe before Sylvain says, “I’m the luckiest man alive, to be the one to bring this out of you.”

Felix hasn’t the courage to pluck up the words he thinks, not in the time before their lips join again. But perhaps Sylvain knows them regardless. _I don’t think I could have ever accepted I want this, had it not been for you._

The deprivation of sight heightens everything. How hands replace the tickler in exploring Felix’s body, Sylvain’s mouth, words into his ear. Soon, neither can resist more. Not everything. Not yet, when Felix’s heart is hammering so furiously, and he’s dipping his toes into deeper waters every time.

But the fingers which work inside him earn moans he cannot hold back. They have him writhing against the ropes, helpless beneath blackened vision. He can barely understand what is happening. He’s almost feeling … drunk. It’s a giddiness, a relaxed high, that he cannot explain—all he knows is that it’s reaching closer to him, how all of this is sending his head into the clouds.

His orgasm is unsurprising. What is probably more as such is how Sylvain releases his own onto Felix’s torso, the sudden warmth almost startling. Sylvain reaches to the back of Felix’s head to remove the blindfold.

“How are you?”

“I’m … holy shit.” Felix breathes out, eyes blinking to adjust to the dim light from an almost set sun. “That was a rush.”

Sylvain smiles, leaning down to press a kiss to Felix’s forehead. “I told you it would help you feel everything more. You did so well.”

“All I did was lay there.”

“Felix. You always underestimate how much strength this takes from you. You’re not the only one taking something from this.” Sylvain begins to unfasten the ropes tying Felix’s left wrist. “I’m so, _so_ proud of how far you’ve come.”

“Mm. It’s … it’s no wonder I want to go further, when I feel this good.” He leans his head back with closed eyes. A realisation dawns on him. “Is this subspace?”

“I don’t think you’re fully there yet. But you definitely might get that soon, once you’re feeling more in our sessions. It seems as though you enjoy rope play and masochism more than enough for that."

“Next time, maybe.” Felix isn’t sure if it’s merely being on a high doing this to him, or perhaps from how strangely emotional he feels, but these words are true to him at this moment. “I want … I want us to do a full scene of this soon.”

“You’d be ready for that?” Sylvain is now untying the other wrist.

“I think so. I just—I need everything, Sylvain. You’re different from everyone else. _This_ is different.”

Sylvain rubs down Felix’s arms, helping him to stretch them. A smile is on his face. “We’ll talk about this when you’re less perplexed by everything, okay? But I think you’re ready, too.”

With a hum, Felix rests his head on its side, eyes still closed. He feels Sylvain wipe at his torso, likely clearing away the semen splattered there. Almost immediately after, there’s a draft of air as a blanket is thrown over Felix.

“Hey,” he grumbles. “I might fall asleep if you do that.”

“Eh, stay the night. I think it’s justified after all this.”

“Hm. Perhaps you’re right.”

He smiles when Sylvain slides beneath the blanket with him, looping arms around his waist and pressing a kiss to the other’s shoulder. “I really am grateful for all this,” says Sylvain. “You trusting me this deeply, opening up.”

“I’m sure you’re used to it with your career.”

“Never like this.” Sylvain rests his chin on the top of Felix’s head. “There’s never been anyone like you.”

These words would be so meaningless, coming from anyone else. Perhaps from Sylvain too, had they been spoken earlier. But here, in this moment, they mean everything and more. Felix trusts those words as much as he does Sylain himself.

Somewhere inside him, perhaps he knows the word ‘love’ describes this joyful ache in his chest. And perhaps it is the only fear he has left.


	11. Light on the Horizon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Felix finds himself opening up to more than Sylvain alone, and reflects on how much he has grown.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have to say before you read this chapter that your feedback has truly been the light of my week, every time I post a new chapter. As I mentioned on Twitter, I never properly considered the idea that others would also resonate with Felix in this story, and every time someone mentions how this has helped them in some way, it really means a lot. And of course, I appreciate those simply enjoying the story, too!
> 
> I hope you enjoy this chapter, too. No additional warnings than what has been stated recently!

It’s easier to see Seteth the second time. Now Felix isn’t on the verge of an anxiety attack by simply thinking about the idea of being in a therapist’s room, his eyes are flicking around and taking it in properly. It’s a strangely homely space. Behind the desk are photos on a wall, and though Felix doesn’t want to stare, he believes almost every one are of Seteth and a girl who must be his daughter.

It’s strange, but imagining Seteth as an actual person is helping. He has his own life outside of this room—there’s more to him than simply listening to Felix’s problems. 

“It has been two weeks since our last session,” says Seteth. “I am pleased that you have decided to see me again.”

“Did you think I’d avoid it?”

“No, not quite. It simply means you have at least some trust in me.” The man smiles. It's genuine, and Felix is once again reminded that he is more than just a paycheck to Seteth. “How have you been, since we last spoke?”

“Not so bad. Pretty well, even.”

“How has the medication been for you?”

“Uh, I don’t really know. Don’t feel any less anxious.”

“That’s quite all right.” Seteth marks this down. “It may take a while for your body to adjust. It will be best to wait a while longer before increasing your dose. You say ‘any less anxious’, implying you still feel as such?”

Felix shuffles slightly in his seat. “I guess. I’m just thinking a lot.”

“Would you like to talk about that?”

“It’s not bad. Nothing huge, I don’t think.” He pauses, glancing down at the hands resting in his lap. He might as well say this much, right? “I think I have strong feelings developing for Sylvain.”

“Is that so?” Felix doesn’t dare to look at Seteth’s face, but he swears he can sense a smile. “How does that make you feel?”

“It’s nice, in some aspects. But not so much in the rest.”

“Do you not feel comfortable with the idea of falling for someone?”

With a shake of his head, Felix starts to fidget with his nails. Perhaps one of the reasons why he has even slept with strangers, instead of finding a single person to do this with, is because he feared having an emotional connection in the process. Emotions, after all, have only ever called pain.

“I imagine it may be a few reasons, rather than one.”

Felix hums. “Letting people in means they will only hurt me, one way or another.”

“Do you believe Sylvain will hurt you?”

“I—not really, I guess. But there are multiple ways to hurt someone.” A pause, before Felix says, voice barely above a murmur, “The last person I even said I loved was my brother. And he died.”

Out of the corner of Felix’s eye, he notices Seteth sitting up straighter. “I did not realise your brother has passed as well. My condolences.”

“His death was a large reason I didn’t get along with my father.” Felix shrugs, as though this is no big deal. “But yeah. I’m scared of them leaving, somehow. Or me leaving because I can’t handle it anymore. I’m not good with emotions. And it’s like …”

“Yes?” 

Felix’s eyes flicker back up to Seteth, waiting patiently with the tip of his pen pressing against paper. Words are difficult to come by, lips pressing together as he scrutinises for each one.

“I’m used to being numb. Feeling something so strongly is terrifying to me. Weird, I know. That I’m scared of  _ feeling  _ something, even though it’s all I’ve been trying to do.”

Saying this aloud has brought him to a realisation: perhaps when he was supposed to seek out ways to feel, to hurt, he never really wanted to have emotions after all. Perhaps he only wanted to be distracted and taken away from them. It might have simply been punishment.

“It is not weird at all, Felix.” Seteth’s voice is so firm yet reassuring, Felix finally brings his eyes back to the other properly. “You would be surprised over how common of a notion this is. You have been forced to adjust to a life where being depressed is your norm, and breaking away from that norm, even if it is for the best, can indeed be frightening. Change always is, good or bad. Especially when this is based around something as complex as emotions.”

“Mm. I suppose that is accurate.” Felix glances down again. “Perhaps there is also a part of me which believes I don’t deserve that joy. Not from getting close to someone again.”

“What, in your eyes, do you think makes you undeserving of someone’s love?”

“The fact that I rejected love in the past, only for that to kill him.” His voice shakes, and he curses himself mentally. There is  _ no  _ way he is going to be using that box of tissues on the table. Not at all.

“Your father.”

“I’d rather not talk about this anymore.” He tries to make his voice firmer, more aggressive, although it comes out much weaker than planned. 

“I understand, Felix. You are already opening up a great deal, which I know is difficult for you. This in itself is excellent progress.”

“I guess. Or maybe I’m just crazy.”

Seteth chuckles, shaking his head. “Not at all. I do ask one more thing of this: do you want to end what you have with Sylvain?”

“No.” Felix almost surprises himself by how instant his answer is, the way his eyes flicker straight back up to Seteth’s. “It’s terrifying me, but he’s also nervous about the idea of a relationship, which helps. Besides, I—I can’t really picture my life without him anymore. I don’t want to push him away.”

“That is stronger than you may realise, Felix.” Seteth is smiling when he writes something else. “While living for yourself is important, it is also fine to have motivations through your bonds with others. We humans, even when introverted, thrive off love, and off these connections we form and families we build for ourselves. Is there anyone else you deem this important?”

Faces immediately appear in Felix’s mind, proving that no matter what his anxiety tells him about not caring for others enough, there are still so many people he loves after all. “Yes. My best friend, Annette, her wife … I work with someone I care about too, and I have an old friend, Ingrid. I’m not really the most sociable person overall. But there are some people I do cherish.”

“It will do you well to hold onto those bonds, no matter how hard it may be sometimes,” says Seteth. “You are allowed to need time alone. There is a great difference between this and pushing others away. However, those people you love deserve a place in your heart, and you yourself deserve the joy this gives you. Do not forget that.”

The sincerity and care in Seteth’s voice, those eyes that seem to see straight through Felix and understand every part of him, are almost enough to induce tears again. It seems as though once someone is a crybaby, that tearfulness never quite leaves them.

But he is grateful. Unbelievably grateful, that Seteth has such kind advice to give when the two have not known each other long. Felix is not sure on how to voice this, although he hopes his answer of, “I won’t,” is enough to tell Seteth,  _ “I understand, and I’m grateful for you reminding me to stay on the right path _ .”

* * *

Pale fingers curl around the bedposts. Supple, red ropes tie them to the iron pressed against the wall. Usually, those rosebud lips would release moans, whimpers, gasps, over the fingers which work themselves in and out, over the tongue which explores his chest with flawless expertise.

Instead, those lips wrap around a ball gag. Felix’s hands are once again tied to either side of the bed frame. He finds that this way of being tied is quickly becoming a favourite of his. Bondage, above all else he and Sylvain explore, is certainly what he enjoys the most. There is something freeing about that restriction.

But this extra amount of care put in Sylvain, from Felix not being able to move as easily, is something which both makes him nervous and also enjoy this even more than he does already. Little by little, he loves all the trust he has to put in Sylvain. He knows that’s development in itself.

“Doing so good, baby,” are Sylvain’s words, causing Felix’s watery eyes to open and blink at him. “You look so adorable like that, you know. I could stare at you forever.”

A single eye shuts again when the pace of Sylvain’s fingers increases slightly more. Felix moans are captured by that gag. In a strange sense, alongside how it's just as arousing as a blindfold is, he’s also somewhat grateful over the prospect of being gagged. It at least stops him from trying to figure out what he has to say to Sylvain—dirty talk has never been something he excels at.

Though it had been Sylvain who initially mentioned gags, due to him wanting to explain how safety works when someone is unable to say a safeword, it was Felix who suggested they try one, curiosity taking hold of him. He might never forget that affection in Sylvain’s eyes. Every time it is  _ Felix  _ who is the one to suggest something, Sylvain seems all the more reassured that he is well and truly enjoying himself. And he is. From the start, and even further as they delve into this together.

“I think it’s about time we also start teaching you about  _ this.”  _ The fingers on Sylvain’s spare hand trail up Felix’s erection lightly, causing the other to squirm beneath the ropes, his whimpers muffled by the gag. “In Dominance and submission, it’s incredibly common for your orgasms to be decided by your Dom. An extra source of control, which I’m sure is appealing to you.”

Felix nods, head leaning back in ecstasy as Sylvain’s fingers find that sweet spot inside him. Eyes tightly closed, although he can sense the other’s smile from this response.

“So, though I’m going to let you climax soon,” begins Sylvain, now pumping Felix’s erection lightly. He pants, body twisting, squirming against those ropes, still baffled by how much more he can  _ feel  _ when he is restrained and submitting to Sylvain. “How about we have that little rule in place from now on.  _ I  _ decide when that happens, unless it's a situation where you cannot handle that. All right?”

“Mm.” Felix gives the sound into the gag without thinking. He blinks, a wave of embarrassment washing over him, although it lessens in an instant when he notices the lust in the other’s eyes.

“You should probably know that I  _ really  _ enjoy submissives speaking into gags like that.” The pace of both of his hands increase. Lips find Felix’s neck, and he swears his mind is in heaven, his cells on fire. “So you only urge me on further when you do it.”

Despite mentioning the additional rule he has in their play, Sylvain doesn’t want to push Felix’s limits too close to the edge—rather, when he feels Felix’s trembling increase, when his moans into the gag sound more desperate than ever, he seems to bear all this in mind. Perhaps it’s simply about the context of Felix obeying that matters. Not necessarily always forcing himself above and beyond, especially now.

For when Felix is clearly at a limit, forcing back his orgasm, Sylvain says, “Come for me, baby.”

And he does, almost instantly. A cry is caught by the gag with a tear escaping closed eyes. His chest heaves with panted breaths, his entire body relaxing from relief. Although somehow, when Sylvain removes his hands from Felix’s genitals to clean his fingers, the latter is hit with a strange sense of disappointment.

He realises it all in an instant. How this time, even without him being able to utter a word and with his hands so restricted, he wasn’t scared. Anxious, perhaps. But that was mostly the kind of nerves one has when engaging in this anyway.

“Here we go,” says Sylvain, reaching behind Felix’s head to unfasten the straps of his ball gag. “How are you feeling?”

Felix swallows his build-up of saliva. “I’m fine,” he says, somewhat breathlessly. “I enjoyed that a lot.”

“So gags are another thing to add to the list.” Sylvain dabs at Felix’s mouth with a tissue, wiping away the spit that has escaped the corners of the gag. “Don’t forget how to tell me if you need to stop immediately. Three consecutive grunts or taps against me with your foot, okay?”

“I remember, thank you.”

Sylvain smiles. “Good. It seems like bondage is definitely your most favourite part of BDSM. Do you think that it’s like how masochism helps you? It lets you relax?”

“Mm. For sure. I’m definitely starting to think it’s more than simply being aroused.” Felix watches Sylvain as he now reaches to Felix’s left wrist to untie it from the headboard. Sudden curiosity finds him on this matter. “Are you like that? By tying people up, I mean.”

“Oh, yeah. I haven’t done anything intricate on you yet, but it’s an art for me. It’s a turn-on, sure, but I also feel relaxed when I tie people up. The concentration is one thing, and also having that healthy control, too.”

Sylvain’s hands stroke over Felix’s to his wrists when they’re free, helping to ease the blood flow. It’s as lovely as ever, as is the kiss Sylvain plants on the back of his hand, but still, Felix feels a sense of not quite being fulfilled, yet.

And as he always does, Sylvain is quick to tell. “Is something wrong?”

“No, not at all. I’m fine.” Now he speaks, Felix finally realises what’s missing. “I think … I think I don’t just want to stop here, today.”

For once, surprise appears on Sylvain’s face. “Are you sure? I know you’ve been frightened over the thought of doing that, being as it’s on a different level of vulnerability for you.”

“I know. And I don’t want to go into a full scene or anything. I just …” Felix finds himself smiling when he thinks back on that day in his apartment, where he realised that sex can, after all, mean something to him. “I think I’m ready to try more while restrained, although a bit differently than I was just now.”

Sylvain smiles, his touch returning to Felix’s hands to give them a squeeze. “I’ve been thinking this myself; that I think an important step for you to take, before we engage in a proper scene, is to try having sex while you’re restrained. If you’re ready for that, then we can do that now.”

“I—thanks. For getting it, I mean.” Felix watches their held hands, hit with a strange sense of shyness. “So … back to simple restraints, I think.”

“Yeah. I was thinking of maybe just tying your hands in front of you. Do you think that sounds okay?”

“Mm. That’s fine.” Despite his nerves, a smirk arrives on Felix’s face. “As long as you pin them above my head, that is.”

Sylvain laughs. “You enjoy that, don’t you?” Felix blinks as in what appears to be in an instant, his back is on his bed, wrists pinned above his head. “Well, it’s a good thing I do as well.”

Their lips meet, Felix’s eyes closing before they can roll or do anything similar. It might have frightened him a while ago, how much he enjoys this. Not so much anymore. And if it does, he’s simply far, far turned on by the force used to keep him beneath Sylvain, by the tongue against his own, to care.

His legs squirm beneath the other, trying to urge him to come closer. A quiet moan is muffled by Sylvain’s mouth as the latter presses closer to him. His nakedness, in an instant, comes to the forefront of his mind; though there is that small side of him wishing to hide, he fully acknowledges all the steps he has taken today.

He gasps for air when Sylvain’s mouth leaves his. “Handcuffs okay?” says Sylvain. “I’d like something faster to get off you, just in case you don’t want to do this after all.”

“Yeah, that’s fine.” So long as there is simply  _ something. _

Sylvain smiles. When he leans down, Felix expects a kiss. Certainly not the mouth which reaches his ear to say, “And don’t think about moving your hands from where I leave them. Okay?”

Felix swallows, nods. “Okay.”

He lays as he’s told, watching Sylvain head over to the chest of drawers with a heart pounding faster. By nerves, yes, but mostly anticipation, he reckons. When Sylvain returns with a pair of handcuffs dangling from his finger, Felix’s mind is brought back to two moments: that day at his introductory workshop, and the time the two had their first private session.

It seems like so long ago, by now. Although simultaneously, it feels like it only happened yesterday.

The handcuffs are attached to the wrists Felix has left resting above his head. Sylvain’s thumbs rub over the metal, his touch trailing down his arms as their lips meet again. 

“You look perfect like this, you know,” says Sylvain after. Voice low, almost quiet, the kind that sends further chills down Felix’s spine. “Keep them there.”

Felix nods. Every little rule has been brought in gradually, one by one—he finds that with each increase of submission he grants Sylvain, the more his mind is taken away, exactly like he’s always been told would happen.

His eyes close over the lips returning to his neck, feeling the way Sylvain reaches over him—Felix assumes it’s for the lube, which turns out to be correct, when he gasps against Sylvain’s mouth from the fingers trailing closer to his entrance. Helping him to loosen again after any possible increase of tension, he assumes.

“Please,” is the word which escapes him the moment their kiss breaks. The words bring a smile to Sylvain’s face, although it becomes more tantamount to a smirk.

“Please what?”

Oh, he’s playing that game. Should this have been Felix months ago, or simply a Felix who is less  _ desperate  _ for what’s to come, he’d have answered back. Instead he says, in a voice slightly quieter in volume, nerves and embarrassment alike the cause, “Please, just—fuck me, Sylvain. Please.”

Clearly the right answer. Sylvain’s lips reach the side of Felix’s face, his finger sliding inside. The gasp Felix releases should astonish him. Instead, he’s distracted by the mouth by his ear, how it says, “Maybe when we have a scene, it won’t be my name that you use.”

Felix doesn’t know the specifics of what this means, but does have a general idea—somehow, when that finger increases its pace and is met by a second, all he can respond with is a louder moan. Everything in the past would have deemed this a moment to be frightened of, knowing exactly how open he has to be, although every touch of Sylvain’s is purposeful. Every kiss from those lips.

And something about it all tells Felix that adoring Sylvain, how he might even dare to say he  _ loves  _ Sylvain, is now the only slight amount of fear left, if he can even say it frightens him at all by now.

Sylvain is soon unfastening the belt around his hips. Clearly, everything until now hasn’t been arousing Felix alone. A condom is pulled over Sylvain, before he reaches for the lube as well.

“Are you certain about this?” he asks. 

When Felix nods, he wonders if it’s a moment too quickly, simply made perplexed by every single emotion and sensation. So he takes a moment to breathe out, calm his beating heart to the best of his abilities, and truly comprehend what is about to happen.

His spoken answer is no different. “Yes.”

Sylvain’s face softens again. Lips return to Felix’s, Sylvain blindly smearing the lube over himself. Kisses across Felix’s collarbone, one, two and three, as the head reaches Felix’s entrance.

For a moment, his heart stops, but he centres on how Sylvain feels. Listens to his breaths, feels the kisses continuing their course down his chest, as one of Sylvain’s hands stroke up and over Felix’s hip and waist.

And he knows he is safe.

He doesn’t need to stop Sylvain. He doesn’t  _ want  _ any of this to stop. Though he initially merely gasps when Sylvain enters him and needs a moment to adjust, he soon finds himself relaxing, and those sharp breaths are replaced with his moans instead. They’re more breathless and softer than anticipated. Everything simply feels so  _ wonderful,  _ the pleasure like nothing else, he would expect himself to be louder.

Perhaps it’s simply far too good for him to find the strength.

“You’re beautiful,” is what Sylvain says, a kiss placed on the top of Felix’s ear, “and you’re doing so well.”

Felix eyes open for a moment to find Sylvain, wondering if it’s foolish to bask in that praise to this extent. “Don’t stop,” he responds, “p-please.”

With a shake of his head, Sylvain’s lips press to Felix’s. His thrusts increase with force, and the latter finally has that louder, higher moan that he expected he wouldn’t be able to hold back forever, the moment their kiss breaks. “Never would have thought about that for a moment.”

Sylvain isn’t as rough as Felix knows he can be—has  _ felt,  _ even, from their first time. But the way Sylvain’s hands push Felix’s bound wrists down into the bed is more than enough for the latter to feel the control, the dominance, and he's no longer filled with quite as much shame when he admits how much he loves it.

It comes as no surprise that he cannot last long. When he climaxes with a cry, his head is sent so far into the clouds, he can barely find the energy to say an apology over that. Somewhere in this haziness, Sylvain slows to a stop and pulls out, and he must have orgasmed himself; the condom he tosses in the trash is soiled.

And almost immediately, his lips are pressing to Felix’s forehead. Again, and again, on either cheek.

“Stop that,” Felix grumbles, earning a laugh from Sylvain.

“Your face is simply so red that I couldn’t  _ possibly  _ resist.”

Felix, in his attempt to give Sylvain a light slap, realises that his wrists are still bound by the handcuffs. He settles on a weak kick to Sylvain’s legs, which is probably more of a nudge than anything.

“Thank you for trusting me to do that,” says Sylvain. “You did so well.”

The urge to deny this and belittle his achievements rushes over Felix, but he bites his tongue. Instead, he says, “Thank you as well.” His voice is quieter than anticipated. “I wouldn’t have got here without you, after all.”

Sylvain’s smile grows, leaning in to press a kiss to Felix’s lips. Afterwards, he picks up the key to the handcuffs, helping Felix to sit up. "Sure brings back memories," he says as he unlocks them.

"I was thinking the same thing, when you held them before." Felix watches as Sylvain places the handcuffs to one side. "I guess I really have come a long way."

"You have, and I'm glad you can acknowledge that."

Sylvain brings a prepared glass of water to Felix. The latter realises how  _ parched  _ he actually is, practically gulping it down. A wipe is brought over his torso as he does so. Admittedly, he completely forgot he would have made a mess on his skin.

Once that is sorted, Sylvain brings him into a hug, and Felix swears the silence and warmth from that embrace is the most beautiful he has ever experienced. He might be slightly awkward to wrap his arms around the other’s neck, leaning his head against Sylvain’s shoulder, but above all else, he’s mostly content, especially whilst listening to the occasional word of praise Sylvain gives him.

"You did perfectly," and, "I couldn't have asked for anything better," and everything else that causes Felix's heart to swell, as he focuses on those fingers tracing circles on his back. 

Eventually, that embrace breaks, although it’s mostly for Sylvain to wrap a blanket around Felix’s body. He settles back against the headboard, pulling the blanket tighter around himself.

“So, I did it,” says Felix. “Do I get a certificate?”

Sylvain bursts out laughing. “No, not quite. Just the glory.”

“Disappointing.” Felix smiles to show he’s joking. “Really though, it was … fine. More than fine. I guess I’ve managed to move on from all that uncertainty, huh? At least a lot of it.” He pauses, before he adds, “I definitely do want us to try out a full scene. Do you think that’s too much, too soon?”

Sylvain shakes his head. “Not if we discuss everything properly. You’ve experienced a lot already with me, and we’ve been delving more into Dom and sub play, too. I think you’d be ready. But of course, that decision comes down to you.”

It’s something he knows he has to properly consider. Ever since the two began to discuss this at all, the most persistent reminder Felix has had is to always be honest about his limits and be open about what he can and cannot handle. He will never forget that firm voice, when Sylvain ensured Felix wouldn’t continue his previous attitudes in the world of BDSM; that he wouldn’t shrug off what he doesn’t like, waiting for it to simply be over.

Without Sylvain’s persistent reminders and protectiveness over Felix’s safety, Felix might have not fully understood, or broken his word on one of his worst days. But he hasn’t. Because he knows it’s not him alone who needs to trust Sylvain; it’s a mutual connection.

“I think so as well,” says Felix. “Today, I … I think I finally stopped thinking, and just  _ felt  _ everything. I didn't worry so much over what I was doing, how I was slipping into that submissive mindset more. I’ve definitely been getting there, and I think it’s enough waiting.”

“Are you definitely sure?”

He can answer this without doubt. But to emphasise this, he moves back away from Sylvain for their eyes to meet. “I am.”

Sylvain smiles, leaning in to brush his lips against Felix’s cheek. “I’m proud of you. I’ll still be sure that this isn’t too heavy of a session for you. But I hope that I can give you everything you want right now.”

Without thinking to hold himself back, Felix says, “You will. That’s all you’ve been doing so far, after all.”

There’s a blink from Sylvain, seeming as surprised as Felix that he was so forward about his sincerity. But the smile is quick to return. Alongside it are Sylvain’s gentle fingers tucking strands of Felix’s hair behind his ear. “Do you ever think about what everything would have been like, had you not visited that workshop?”

“Frequently.” Felix often worries over ‘what ifs’, although here, his pondering has done nothing but focus on the positive. “It’s so odd to me that this has been helping me heal. Guess I’ve never been normal.”

Sylvain chuckles. “And how boring is normal? I’m glad too, that you ended up visiting it. There was definitely something about you, from the moment we spoke to each other for the first time.”

With a roll of his eyes, Felix leans on his elbow, resting his cheek in his palm. “I bet you say that to a lot of people.”

“Well, I  _ mean  _ it with you. You’re special, Felix.”

Felix almost says the same straight back to Sylvain, although the words catch themselves in his mouth. He hopes his smile and the fingers he trails down the side of Sylvain’s face are enough.

“This has me thinking,” he says instead, “about how you’ve talked about lifestyles in relationships. And I’ve learned stuff about that, both from you and online. But … Well, you’ve talked about non-sexual things before.”

“That’s right. All relationships are different, and no one exploring kink has to do so in the same ways as each other. But generally, BDSM relationships involve having set rules in day-to-day life as well, not just in the bedroom. That can range all the way to total power exchanges.”

Felix hums. “That’s like the Master and slave thing you mentioned, right?”

“That, plus general 24/7 lifestyles. The strictness of all this can vary.” Sylvain’s fingers continue to play with a few strands of Felix’s hair. He always smiles when he does this, whether he is aware of it or not. “Rituals are a big aspect, in my opinion. Dominants can have set parts of a submissive’s schedule. Getting the submissive to meditate in the morning, kneel at a certain time, having them wear a day collar—all this and potentially a lot more. Full power exchanges aren’t for everyone, but even some of these aspects can help add to a general lifestyle.”

“And you said that you do like that as part of long-term relationships, right?”

Sylvain hums. He sits up a little straighter, reassurance written on his face. “No matter where our path takes us, I will never force you into anything. But I like having that kind of role in my partner’s life. It makes me feel like I’m helping to keep them safe, even in the smallest of ways. Especially as this helps to grant submissives relief often times, and a way to feel gratification from BDSM without sex.”

It’s definitely easy for Felix to see how this can be a positive aspect of a submissive’s life, which probably, alongside all he has enjoyed with Sylvain, tells him that this is certainly more of his nature than he realised. He’s certainly always had a harsh control on his life and how he lives it. Seemingly small things like this, held in another’s hands, is something he can understand—crave too, in a sense. He is not completely sure. He probably doesn’t have to be as such yet, when the two are only dating, and not in a full relationship.

Although something does come to mind. “I suppose, in a sense,” he says, “Dominants are often looking out for the welfare of their submissive away from the bedroom. I mean, obviously couples do that anyway. But there seems to be more trust here.”

“Oh, yeah. Some may go as far as to have rituals that may seem abusive to vanilla couples, and would be if it wasn’t a mutual agreement. So it’s definitely something that requires a lot of trust.”

“Mm. I thought so.” He’s silent for a moment, fingers playing with some creases in the duvet. "Naturally it doesn’t matter completely yet, but I can see the appeal. And I feel like there’s certain non-sexual stuff I’ve picked up on already.”

“Yeah?” Sylvain’s hand comes into view, his own fingers tracing over the back of Felix’s hand. “What like?”

“Like … when you tell me to make sure I’ve drank enough, or things like that. It might sound stupid, but when you say that, I feel more inclined to actually do it.” Felix rubs the back of his neck awkwardly, avoiding Sylvain’s gaze. “That probably sounds weird.”

“No, Felix. In fact, I swear the more you talk about this, the more I realise you were right to let me teach you about everything.” Their eyes finally meet when Sylvain cups Felix’s cheek. “I know we’re both easing into the idea of being together. But even with that, I think we’re heading to something that will be great for the two of us.”

Felix’s smile returns, and he leans in to brush his lips against Sylvain’s. The prospect of a relationship is becoming less frightening with each passing day. By this point, it’s likely only a matter of time, simply waiting until the two have overcome any remaining obstacles.

* * *

Music helps fight away awkwardness and nerves, but the moment Ingrid turns off the stereo in her car, they hit full force. When they both avert their gazes out of the car and onto the entrance to a cemetery, this somehow manages to intensify even more.

Silence remains as the pair comprehend their feelings. On Felix’s side, though he has been here before, he has never dared to do this with another person.

“Thank you, Felix, for inviting me here,” says Ingrid at last. “I never felt comfortable doing so. Not without … your permission, I suppose.”

Felix shakes his head. “You never needed my permission. Not to visit your deceased fiancé. Still, I appreciate the sentiment.”

The two step out of the car. A bouquet of flowers is in Ingrid’s arms. She appears puzzled over Felix’s lack thereof. 

“Glenn never cared much for flowers,” he says. “From anyone but you, at least.”

“Anyone but me?” The pair begin to walk towards a set of charcoal-coloured gates.

“He loved that you were willing to break the mould. A woman getting her male fiancé flowers instead, I mean. And you were always so thoughtful about what you picked.”

Ingrid hums, eyes flickering up to the sky. “Yes. Dorothea taught me more about flowers, and ever since then, I felt inclined to give ones with meaning.” There’s a pause, before Ingrid adds, “Your father … Did you have his gravestone placed alongside Glenn’s?”

“Yes. I reckoned they would want that.”

He leads the way through the graveyard. Rows and rows of graves, countless souls that have moved on. It might seem depressing. An essence of hope, however, lies in the colours of flowers dotted around, and the companions who visit even after a long time has passed.

“Here.”

Felix stops in front of two identical, pearl white gravestones. Ingrid walks towards Glenn’s. Slowly, as though respecting the very soul resting beneath the earth, she crouches in front of it. “Hey, Glenn. I’m sorry I was never able to visit sooner. I miss you.” The bouquet is placed down by the grave. A pause, before Ingrid rises to her feet, letting out a shaky chuckle. “I’m not sure how movies play these beautiful, long messages. I have no idea on what I should say at all, even though I was revising it mentally all the way here.”

“That’s all right,” says Felix. “It’s not as though he can hear you.”

“Do you not believe in the afterlife?”

“I neither believe nor don’t believe. But, well,” Felix pauses, eyes flickering over the inscription,  _ Glenn Percival Fraldarius,  _ “if there  _ is  _ life after death, and ghosts are real, I think Glenn would have chosen to move on. Not stick around.”

Ingrid smiles, a single tear trickling down her face. “I think you might be right.”

Silence falls. In this moment, Felix’s eyes avoid the gravestone belonging to his father; he instead reminisces on the past with his brother. Four years. Four long, cruel years, and only now is he able to stare at that gravestone without tears. 

_ “You’re quite the little crybaby, aren’t you? Come on now, that won’t do.” _

“I’m sorry,” says Ingrid before long, “for all those things I said about Glenn’s death.”

Felix pauses. “Do you still believe them?”

“I—yes. I truly do appreciate him dying a hero’s death. But I understand now that I should not have forced that belief on you, when it’s clearly not a source of comfort. I think I focused on it as deeply as I did to cope.”

“As a way to avoid looking at his death in such a harsh light?”

“Exactly.” Ingrid’s head bows. “I wanted his death to have meaning. But I understand now, that while I can admire all the good he did leading up to his death, it doesn’t make his death okay. I am allowed to miss him, be hurt. Even … sometimes wish someone else died instead. As horrible as that may be.”

“It’s only human.” Felix has had quite the same thoughts; wondering how his life would be now if another had died in his brother’s place. Not that this person would have deserved it, either. It is simply reality that their death would not have an impact on Felix.

Although it would have done the same to their own family. That is why these thoughts are selfish. Selfishness, however, is another trait of humanity, as ugly as it can be.

“He was a good man,” says Ingrid. “And I should focus on the meaning he had in his life itself, not the death which came after.”

“Yeah.” His voice is quiet, a little strained with the effort of holding back tears. “That’s how I’ve gotten through each day, cherishing what I managed to have with him.”

The two stand silently. Reading the inscription over and over, as though its words would have somehow changed since the first time. Words of a noble death, as chosen by Felix’s father. It makes him feel sick. Although he can also view it with a pitiful gaze, when remembering how Rodrigue never managed to have his own hero’s end.

His eyes flicker to his father’s twin gravestone. Ingrid is soon to notice, resting a hand on Felix’s shoulder with a smile. “Would you like a moment of privacy with your father?”

He doesn’t realise this is what he needs until now. “If you don’t mind.”

Her reply is bringing him into a hug. She pats his back before walking away silently, leaving Felix alone, standing in front of that white marble.

“After all I said to Ingrid, I’m trying to think of words to say to you, now,” he murmurs. “But all I can think of is sorry.”

He doesn’t think he will ever stop apologising. For all the silent treatment over those four years, and animosity on the days they  _ did  _ talk. How Felix never checked in enough on Rodrigue, saw what was happening to him. It doesn’t matter if it was all understandable. It will still haunt him for the rest of his days.

A tear falls when he closes his eyes with a large exhale. Almost a year now, and he still half expects the sudden call to check on him. Healing is slow. Painful. The loss of a loved one cannot leave him within a matter of months.

But he is trying, and perhaps that is what matters. His eyes open again. This time, they take in the two gravestones, stood side-by-side. Felix hopes they are doing the same in the afterlife.

And now, as the only one remaining, he will do all he can to make his life worth living, and experience it on their behalf. Exactly as they would want him to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! The second scene of this chapter was actually extended on two different occasions and generally revised a lot, making it one of my favourite chapters.
> 
> Only two more after this one ... How time flies! The next one is the last with explicit content, although I'm fond of the epilogue as well. I hope you're excited for the rest.


	12. Everything and More

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Felix finally opens up more about what happened to his family, he and Sylvain dive further than they ever have before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you as always for all of your support!
> 
> This chapter is a bit of a long one, so I do hope you enjoy. Additional warnings: mentions/discussion of suicide.

As Felix parts from Sylvain’s lips with a sigh, bed covers soft beneath his palm, his mind flickers back to all that has led him to this moment. This is something he has done for months, wanting to acknowledge everything that has happened and he has fought towards; within these last few weeks, however, this has become all the more apparent.

It has almost been a year since the two of them met, and so much has changed. Not everything has done so. It’s simply impossible for his life to make a complete turnaround from a single person entering it, but he also cannot, and wouldn’t, deny that it has helped bring him to his feet. He’s not sure if he can imagine his life without what Sylvain has taught him. Without it, after all, Felix wouldn't have ever been able to embrace himself to this extent.

And this all began because of his best friend, who simply wanted Felix to have a safer environment to dwell in. He will never forget her kindness, her lack of judgement, as she did her best for him, and still continues to do so.

Sylvain is smiling. Always smiling, as though Felix grants him the same joy back. Felix is still coming to terms with the idea that he _is_ different to others, that he _does_ give Sylvain happiness in return. Not everyone calls him special because they want to gain something from that.

“Are you sure you’re okay with this?” asks Sylvain. “We can talk through it again if you need to.”

Felix shakes his head. “I swear you already know me like the back of your hand.”

“I do. But I’m still not _you,_ and I always want you to be comfortable.” The hand holding Felix’s squeezes. “I know these months have been difficult for you, breaking down those walls and all.”

Though Felix hums, he’s not certain if he fully agrees. “I mean, it’s been a struggle at times, letting myself be vulnerable. But I wouldn’t say everything has been difficult, all this time. You’ve been nothing but patient.”

“That’s only natural for me.”

It is, which only adds to Felix’s gratitude. He’s silent for a moment, watching the thumb tracing circles over the back of his hand. Perhaps there is another wall he can break down, before he finally allows that cold, steel exterior to come apart completely.

“There’s something I want to talk to you about, first.”

Sylvain sits up a little straighter. “What is it?”

“It’s—it’s about my family. What actually happened with them.” He waits for Sylvain's answer. When he only receives those sincere eyes and the slightest nod, he continues. “My brother died first. I was twenty-four at the time. He was a firefighter.”

“Did he die on the job?”

Felix hums. "A ‘heroic’ death, one might call it. My father included. And that tore the two of us apart completely.”

“I’m sorry. I know what it’s like, to become distant with someone over this. Did you not appreciate how he handled Glenn’s death?”

“No. Not at all.” Felix exhales, eyes cast down on the bed. “I hated his death being summarised as some noble way to die, that it’s what he would have _wanted._ I kind of get the notion. But it felt like such mockery of his life, acting as though it was fine for him to die all because it _meant_ something. And as the two of us were close, I took it personally.”

“I can understand that,” says Sylvain. “You mourned because you loved him, and the life he had. You didn’t want it to be justified because he died in an admirable way.”

“That’s exactly it. Ingrid felt similarly too—she was engaged to him, as you know. That’s why we drifted apart.” A pause. When Felix continues speaking, he does so a little quieter. “And … and I don’t know if you know this, but my family was pretty rich. He owned a company. My brother was to inherit it—he wanted to do something else in the meantime, you see— and when he died, that was going to be passed onto me. But I didn’t want it. I hated the idea of only having that because my brother didn’t. Not that I ever wanted it, anyway.”

“Was it as though he overshadowed you?”

“Yes. I was always second best, nothing more. So all that combined with his ‘noble death’, and I just—I couldn’t handle it. I could no longer stand my father.”

Another squeeze of Felix’s hand. “Understandable. You’re your own person, not your brother, but you also adored him.”

Felix doesn't answer; it really isn't this simple. His actions and responses might have been reasonable, perhaps even justified. But the results thereafter are an entirely different story.

“It’s my fault my father died, though.”

“You’ve said that before. What do you mean?” He tries to meet Felix’s eyes. The latter avoids them. “Hey, Fe. It’s okay. You don’t have to talk about it, but know I’m here to listen.”

Inhaling deeply, Felix’s eyes close for a moment. He can see the horrors beneath that darkness, the body of the father he immediately wished he would speak to more. “Glenn’s death, my withdrawal from him, how his company started failing because of how deeply it all affected him—it grew too much for him, eventually. He committed suicide at the end of last year.”

“Fuck, Felix. I’m sorry.” Sylvain’s fingers brush over Felix’s shoulder. So simple, yet so strangely comforting. “That is far from your fault.”

“But I pushed him away when he needed my support more than ever.” Felix’s voice is barely above a whisper. “I was so caught up on my hatred for him that I never saw what was happening to him. Maybe, if I had spoke to him—”

“Maybe, but maybe not. Suicide isn’t this clear cut, Felix. We can’t always tell when someone will choose that way out. Someone could seem cheerful around loved ones— _be_ as such, even—and still end up taking their own lives. And dwelling on being the cause for it will do nothing but destroy you.”

Felix nods slowly, eyes still fixed on the bed. “I know. I’ve been working on it. That unhealthy sex, partially _wanting_ to be hurt from it—that was all just to feel something else, aside from all that numbness and guilt. It was a way to forget. Never really worked.”

“The issue was trying to take yourself away from the moment, rather than be in it, living your life.”

He’s right. In Felix’s eyes, there is nothing wrong with distracting yourself from pain. Sometimes that is how one survives. Living only through this, however, distracting himself with something he didn’t even enjoy … How he never allowed himself to heal, to process his emotions, because he was too busy living as someone else, helped none of it. Unlike now, when he can delve into unexplored sides to himself, be granted the freedom to do nothing but be in the moment with Sylvain. Feel a sense of freedom at last.

“I didn’t like it,” says Felix. “Sex could be fun, some time ago. But what we’ve done has given me far more than anything I’ve had with others. It means something.”

Felix leans into the fingers brushing over his cheek. Eyes close when Sylvain’s lips find his, and for a moment, he might cry. But he’s not quite ready yet, still holding them back. He knows that tears will fall through a different matter. He yearns for that instead.

When the kiss breaks, Felix is visibly more relaxed. He even manages a smile over Sylvain cupping either cheek, and the kiss brushed against his forehead.

“Thank you for opening up to me about this,” says Sylvain. “Truly. I know this is all difficult for you. Every time you open up to me a little more, I become prouder of you. And I want to protect you, when we're alone together like this.”

 _I don’t need protecting,_ are the words he tries to say. In reality, it’s different. It always is. He wants to feel safe. He wants to feel as though nothing can touch him here. And beneath the lips kissing his again, those hands gentle yet capable of so much more, he can be as such.

No one lays a finger on him, nothing hurts him, other than Sylvain. And any pain is different. It’s so, _so_ much different than all the suffering forced on him.

“Are you ready?” asks Sylvain. “It’s still fine if a proper session isn’t okay with you.”

Felix shakes his head. “I need it. Need … you.”

Sylvain smiles, but it shifts quickly. Lust beginning to form in his eyes, and a certain darkness not there previously. His hand lifts Felix’s chin and he says, quite simply, “Then strip.”

The tone already has Felix swallowing. He nods silently. No room to disobey; perhaps one day, he can play around with disobedience, but that is not something he wants now. He wants to open up. Fulfil his desires, truly see there is nothing at fault with them. He wants to simply be at Sylvain’s mercy.

Those honey-brown eyes do not tear away for a moment. Sylvain is far from the first person to see Felix naked, and has also done so already, yet Felix is still almost bashful when slowly slipping the shirt off his shoulders. Sylvain’s stare is calculating. As though taking in every single inch of Felix’s body, and wondering how to put it all under his control.

“Off the bed for that,” says Sylvain when Felix, shirtless, takes hold of the waistband of his trousers. Felix nods, getting to his feet. “Have your back facing me, too. I want to see that ass of yours before it’s beautifully red.”

Felix’s lips purse. His back remains facing Sylvain, fingers almost trembling too much to unfasten his jeans. There’s a little fear there. But he’s mostly nervous, filled with anticipation, and perhaps above all else, excited.

He bends over when bringing the jeans and underwear down his legs. A sharp exhale leaves his lips when Sylvain reaches to him, a hand squeezing at an ass cheek. Felix’s right hand shoots to his mouth when that hand lifts and slaps.

“Gorgeous. Always so gorgeous, baby.”

Another squeeze, before Felix is granted room to finish removing the garments. It’s almost … frightening, how he can feel so vulnerable from simply being naked. Especially now, when he doesn’t dare turn around until Sylvain gives that command. He can feel those eyes marvel at him.

Felix swears they could keep him under control alone. They stare into him with an intensity nothing else has ever managed before, as though seeing straight into his soul. Perhaps that is how they’re supposed to feel.

“Top drawer,” Sylvain finally says. “You know what to do.” Felix nods, but apparently, the lack of speech isn’t enough anymore. Not in a full session. “Hey.”

“Yes, sir.” They’re previously discussed words, forming embarrassment in him, but perhaps arousal most of all.

He walks over to a chest of drawers in Sylvain’s room. His eyes widen when opening it. He knows what to collect, but he’s simply so … amazed, by all that is in this alone. Will Sylvain use all of it, over time?

Either way, Felix doesn’t want to keep him waiting. He picks up a riding crop from the drawer. Shuts it, turns around. Sylvain sits at the end of the bed, leaning back on his hands. So casual whilst Felix is almost giddy with nerves.

In order to keep Felix as mentally prepared as possible, they have discussed everything—what Sylvain will do, use. But considering up until now, their sessions of impact play have been by Sylvain’s hand alone, there is still a sense of wonder over how it will feel. How _he_ will feel. As he kneels in front of Sylvain, handing him the riding crop, his heart is pounding.

“You do look pretty on your knees, sweetheart.” Felix cannot help pressing his thighs together, eyes cast on the floor. “And you sure enjoy me telling you that.”

The head of the riding crop is placed beneath his chin. Lifts it, forcing their eyes to meet. The expression in Sylvain’s causes both a desire to stare as long as Felix is able, but also avert his own away.

“Either way, all pretty little things need to be put in their place. Don’t they, Felix?”

Felix knows this is one of Sylvain’s ways of seeking consent—and _Goddess,_ does he have a way of mingling such things into his dirty talk. His head is lifted a little higher when he merely nods. “Yes, sir.”

“I think we can make good use of that mouth as I do exactly that.” The riding crop is brought higher, stroking over Felix’s lips. “You do have such a way with it, after all.”

As much as Felix desires to avert his eyes from embarrassment, he keeps them fixed on Sylvain’s as his tongue licks up the riding crop's head. Sylvain's eyes widen for just a moment. The reaction is soon replaced with a smirk.

“Hold your arms behind your back. If you don’t keep them there, I’ll punish you—more than I’m about to. Understand?”

“I understand.” This is another thing they have discussed; leaving Felix unbound for now, as he adjusts to obeying Sylvain’s commands in a fully submissive role, and to prevent panic. At least he has the ability to push himself away if the need arises.

His hands wrap around his forearms, holding them behind him. Sylvain trails the riding crop down the side of Felix’s neck whilst his spare hand begins to unfasten his trousers. Over Felix’s chest, to a nipple; he gasps when it hits lightly. It doesn’t hurt, but the shock is enough for his body to jolt.

“I always love how responsive you are, baby. You feel everything so intensely.” The riding crop trails down Felix’s abdomen. He shivers. “So fun to play with.”

Sylvain is soon revealing his cock, hand pumping to erect it. Felix can hardly wait. His desperation must be obvious, judging by the glint in Sylvain’s eye.

“Already getting hard yourself, aren’t you?” The riding crop lowers to Felix’s dick. He jumps with a gasp. “So cute. Just a little ordering you around, and you turn into complete putty like this.”

Felix’s eyes drop down; they shoot upwards again when Sylvain gives a light slap of the crop against his dick. Stroking down it, to Felix’s testicles. He moans, lifting himself a little higher on his knees, trying to cause more friction.

“Sylvain, I— _ah!”_ Without warning, the riding crop spanks his backside—Sylvain uses less force than what is possible for him, likely because it’s the first time it has been used, although it’s enough for Felix to stop.

“None of that.” Sylvain’s voice is almost gentle. He touches Felix’s testicles lightly with that crop, Felix aware that he’s not permitted to grind against it unless told to. “I’m the one who decides how, and when, you’ll be pleasured. Understand?”

“Yes.” Another light slap. Felix inhales sharply, knowing what this means. “Y-yes, sir. I understand.”

“Let’s test that, shall we?” The hand which has been pumping at Sylvain’s dick reaches for Felix’s hair. He’s brought closer to Sylvain. Mouth already opening, more desperate than he should be for that to enter. “Want this, don’t you?”

Felix nods, and the slightly raised eyebrow tells him to add, “Please.”

Sylvain smiles. He brings Felix closer, his mouth brushing against the base of Sylvain’s erection. He moans softly, adjusting his position on his knees, tightening his grip on the arms he holds behind his back. A kiss is planted against the side of Sylvain's dick. “Good boy. Show me how perfect you can do this, all right?”

Felix nods. His tongue trails over Sylvain’s testicles, around the base. A sigh escapes Sylvain’s lips. Felix leads his tongue upwards and, knowing to not tease for too long, he licks at the head for only a moment before taking Sylvain into his mouth.

“That’s it,” says Sylvain, keeping Felix in place by his hair. “Let’s see if you’re able to take it all.”

Felix releases some kind of sound around Sylvain—possibly a moan. He feels the riding crop trail over his hip to his backside as he works up a pace. Sucking at only a fraction as he builds up saliva—Sylvain is large, and he knows better than to rush too quickly. He wants to please him perfectly.

He tries to not allow himself to be too distracted by the riding crop circling over an ass cheek. Slow, gently. Biding its time. Felix’s heart is hammering with the knowledge that soon, it will be colliding against him.

“Bet you’re excited for this, aren’t you? For me to discipline you.”

Felix’s eyes flicker back up to Sylvain as he nods. That smile of Sylvain’s remains, although now has a touch of authority which causes a shiver to run down Felix’s spine. He cries out against the cock in his mouth when the riding crop lifts and spanks him.

“Oh, that is definitely a nice sound.” Another spank. A single eye closes. “Make sure to keep that mouth of yours going, all right?”

Felix gives a muffled reply. Sylvain’s teeth catch his bottom lip from the vibrations against him. Another spank, and another. Sylvain isn’t using as much strength as he could be—it hurts around the same as the hands which have expertly given him the same pain. The sting heads straight to the erection between his legs. He knows he cannot touch it. Not even if his hands were under his control, but certainly not now he’s forced to keep them where they are.

“ _Mmph—”_ The riding crop soon lands a little harder on the opposite cheek. He begins to feel tears welling in his eyes, although it’s difficult to tell if they’re from the spanks or taking more of Sylvain’s length into his mouth. All he knows is that he loves it all.

“All right, sweetheart?” A gentler tone. Felix knows it’s likely because this is the first time the two have dived into Dominance and submission, to such an extent. Regardless, he is fine. More than fine.

His answer is to bring his mouth straight down to the base of Sylvain’s erection. “ _Fuck,”_ Sylvain breathes out, his grin growing. “You’re perfect at this, Felix. You truly are.” _Slap._ Felix jolts, a moan vibrating against Sylvain’s cock. “Such a good boy.”

This is something else Felix is beginning to realise; how much he adores the praise. He’s not sure why. Perhaps he enjoys knowing he is pleasing Sylvain, being good for him, obedient. The fact that he _can_ be that way. Perhaps, all of this time, a part of him has feared that no matter what his desires are, he might not ever have the ability to indulge in them. And he knows how much effort it has taken to be convinced he can do so.

He still feels some level of shame, but it’s faint, nowhere near as strong as in the past. One might say how much he has changed, but in reality, he has never felt more like himself.

“Doing so well, kitten.”

Felix’s grip tightens on his arms. He shuffles closer, _moaning_ when Sylvain spanks again. The sound of the collision is intoxicating. It possibly arouses him as much as the pain. Sylvain gloats it in as well, a glint in his eye whenever the slap echoes. A power play at its finest—that which Felix feels safe in, safer than he has with anyone else.

“Almost there.” There’s a pause, before he says, a hint of amusement in his voice, “I could have you beg for me to come into that pretty mouth of yours, you know. But we can save that for another time. This,” the riding crop slaps hard enough for Felix to jolt, “is more than enough for now.”

The words alone, even if Felix isn’t going through with this today, is more than enough to arouse him further. He almost feels giddy. Moaning when the riding crop returns to his genitals. Knowing he cannot allow himself release, even before Sylvain has yet to give that command. It’s a loss of control that is beginning to send his head into the clouds.

Everything is almost too much. The sting in his scalp, his backside, and how Sylvain’s hips have begun to thrust his erection into Felix’s mouth. It’s aching by now. A few tears have fallen. But it isn’t something he dislikes—he adores it, even, this act of staying on his knees until Sylvain is finally satisfied.

And he soon is. The grip on his hair tightens when Sylvain comes with a groan into his mouth. Felix’s eyes squeeze shut over the warm liquid. He doesn’t dare to do anything with it until Sylvain leans down, lifting Felix’s chin.

“Swallow every last drop.”

Felix nods, doing exactly this. “ _Ah,”_ he moans as the riding crop slaps one last time.

“Enjoyed it, didn’t you? To moan over it slapping you.” Sylvain pats his backside with the head, running it along the skin. “Such a good boy. I might even let you come before I’m done with you, if you continue to behave.”

Felix has to stop his legs from squirming. “Please, sir.”

“No use begging yet. We have to get you tied up beautifully, first.” Sylvain runs his fingers over the side of Felix’s face, wiping away his tears. “You did well to have your arms behind your back the entire time. Did you struggle with it?”

“No, not really,” says Felix. “I don’t think I would have touched myself either way.”

Sylvain smiles over this. “And we haven’t even talked over that little rule as much as we have had others. You sure are doing wonderfully, baby. Being so good to me.”

The praise causes Felix to drop his eyes down onto the floor; he’s not sure why it embarrasses him this deeply. They blink when Sylvain takes hold of his upper arms. It seems to be a gesture to bring them away from himself. Perhaps a moment to stretch, before they have to be tied.

After Sylvain puts his underwear and trousers back into place, he picks Felix up beneath his arms. Legs straddle either side of Sylvain. A moment to breathe, Felix thinks. Even though he’s enjoying submitting to this extent, he’s almost overwhelmed by how much it takes out of him—partially in a way that is intended through their play, but also emotionally.

Sylvain’s lips find Felix’s neck. “I can’t wait to get you into those ropes, sweetheart. You’re going to look so beautiful.”

Felix’s head lifts, a sigh escaping him, trying to release any ounce of shame. _Focus on how good it feels, how you’re safe here. Don’t let anything stop you from enjoying what you want to._

Hands trail over Felix’s hips, squeezing at his backside; even with the pain from Sylvain’s spanking, he releases a quiet moan. “Please,” he breathes out, before he even comprehends his thoughts.

“Please what?”

“More, I need …” Felix’s head rests against Sylvain’s shoulder, shivering over the fingers tracing up the crevice between his buttocks. He’s … light-headed, almost. But not quite. Simply reaching a place of peace unlike anything he has ever experienced. “I don’t need to wait longer. Please.”

Sylvain kisses beneath Felix’s ear. “As you wish, kitten.”

It happens in a blur. Felix brought off Sylvain’s lap, his face planted into the bed with a hand in his hair. He moans, struggling. Not seriously. It simply feels so _fantastic_ to squirm beneath Sylvain, unable to fight against the hand pinning his arms against his back, not wanting to in the first place.

“Goddess. Your ass looks amazing.” Sylvain removes the hand from Felix’s head in order to caress his rear. Stroking it, squeezing. “You have such pale skin, the redness against it is obvious. I adore seeing the results of what I’ve done to you.” _Slap._ Felix whimpers, still squirming against Sylvain’s grip on him. “And you adore it too, don’t you?”

“ _Yes,”_ Felix breathes out. “Yes, sir. _”_

Another slap, this time far lighter, more playful. “Stay here. Let’s get you ready.”

Excitement surges in Felix. He remains where he is as Sylvain collects some rope. Crimson red, his favourite colour. He runs the rope through his hands, a pleased look in his eye. He glances over at Felix. He must be imagining what the end result of his work will look like.

Sylvain returns to the bed. Fingers trace a line over the curve of Felix’s spine. “I’m going to take my time more with this, and make it more restrictive than usual. Tell me if it makes you uncomfortable at any time.”

Felix nods. “I will.”

A kiss is pressed against Felix’s lower back. Sylvain slides closer to him, earning a moan as the bulge in Sylvain’s trousers grinds between Felix’s ass cheeks. Sylvain takes either of Felix’s arms, bringing them behind his back. Felix feels Sylvain test the temperature of his hands.

“Hold them together.”

The authority is quick to return. Felix nods, complying. Sylvain begins looping rope around his upper arms to begin with. It seems as though he trusts Felix to remain still, not needing to tie his wrists first.

He remains obediently still, head on its side as he watches Sylvain begin to work on the knots. It’s … mesmerising, to observe his face. Felix has never quite seen the extent of this side fully. Sylvain’s ropework, up until now, has only been with tying his wrists, either together or to bedposts. He’s not had a chance to do anything which takes more time.

His expression is alluring. Concentration and appreciation are in his eyes all at once. He has a calmness unlike what Felix experiences; the latter possesses a racing heart and goosebumps forming along his skin, the further his arms become restricted, although alongside a sense of peace. Sylvain is simply in his element.

The knots travel down in between his arms, a seemingly complex mass of rope bringing them together tightly. It’s far from uncomfortable, but he knows he would have little movement at all if Sylvain were to ask him to try and tug at them. He is awaiting this command. And soon, it arrives.

“Struggle against them, Felix.” A quiet voice, yet dripping with huskiness, dominance, that brings causes Felix’s hair to stand on end.He obeys. His squirming against the ropes immediately sends further heat down to his erection, and he cannot even prevent a quiet moan. “That’s beautiful. You’re so helpless against me, aren’t you? Can do nothing but submit.”

Perhaps those words would have caused him to panic, months ago. He only squirms more instead. Playing into this game of cat and mouse, how he is trapped beneath these ropes, but only is as such because he wants it _all._ That is what Felix has been building himself up for.

“Please,” he ends up whispering. He does not know why until Sylvain asks.

“What are you begging for?”

“For … for you to fuck me. Please.”

There’s a smile on Sylvain’s face. His hands run up Felix’s ass cheeks, squeezing at them. It’s a little painful with the marks from earlier still remaining. Still, Felix whimpers softly with desperation, tugging at those restrictive ropes. “Are you certain you want this, Felix?”

Perhaps he has never been more certain in his life, when he gives a firm, “Yes.”

Sylvain’s smile returns. He leans down over Felix, ensuring to press his crotch against Felix as he does so, pressing a kiss to the other’s cheeks. “Beg for it more, then.”

Teeth catch Felix’s lip. Those words only seem to increase his squirming. “P-please.”

“Not enough, kitten. You know that.”

“Please, please fuck me, Syl—no, sir. Please.”

Sylvain chuckles. It’s a sound etched in a little darkness, sending a shiver down Felix’s spine. He blinks in confusion when Sylvain turns him over, so he rests on his back. A whine escapes his lips as a finger trails up his erection.

“I’ll give you what you want, in the end,” he says. “But I simply want to tease you. After all, when you’re so beautifully submissive for me, surely my only response is to take advantage of it all? See how far I can push you?”

It’s something else they have discussed—not rushing into everything, Sylvain taking his time to truly ease Felix into the right headspace. Still, he is caught up in everything, in this role he plays, and anticipation and a mild sense of fear find him regardless. As they should.

“Just touch me.” Felix speaks barely above a whisper. “Please.”

“Touch you? I could do that in so many ways, Felix. More than I can say.” Sylvain’s fingers press over one of Felix’s nipples. A moan is earned before Felix can even think of stopping it. “I can tease you until you’re begging through tears, I can hurt you in a way which will only arouse you more. I can grant you pleasure unlike anything you’ve ever experienced.”

Sylvain squeezes the nipple. Twists it. Felix whimpers, legs pressing together, helplessly trying to rub at his erection; Sylvain’s spare hand slapping at the side of his backside stops him. Felix swears he’s in ecstasy. Those words come from nothing but truth.

“So when you ask me to touch you, sweetheart,” Sylvain leans down, licking a tongue over a nipple, his other hand stroking down the side of Felix’s body and squeezing at a thigh, “what is it you want?”

“Your fingers,” Felix says. Almost stutters, able to do nothing but gasp, softly moan, as that tongue continues to swirl over his nipples. “I-I want them in me, please. Sir.”

‘Sir’—how difficult it had been to utter the first time, and now his head is reaching a little further into the clouds, he says it as naturally as it is to breathe.

And that’s okay. It’s fine for this to be his natural response to Sylvain. There is nothing wrong with any of his desires, to enjoy everything Sylvain does to him.

“Of course you do.” Sylvain’s lips find Felix’s neck instead, reaching up to bite at his earlobe. Felix lets out a choked moan as fingers stroke teasingly over his entrance. “You want my fingers to work inside you, earn all those sounds that no one else has ever been able to hear.”

Felix nods almost frantically. He notices his shallow breaths—breathless in anticipation, desire. “I need it. Please.”

“Not just want, need. That's even better."

Sylvain reaches for a bottle of lube. Felix watches as it's smeared over a finger. He doesn’t realise how ravenous he is for Sylvain’s lips to return to his own until they kiss, Felix’s eyes closing, compliant to the tongue that slips inside.

“ _Ah!”_ Felix gasps when their lips part, Sylvain’s fingertip finding his entrance, pressing down on the external muscle to loosen him up. “Oh, Goddess—”

“So desperate, aren’t you?” Sylvain is smirking as he meets Felix’s eye. “Why not beg for that to enter you?”

Felix has no qualms in the world against doing so. “Please, sir.”

“Please what?”

“F-fuck me with it, please—I need them, I need _you,_ so please.”

He notices how desperate his voice has become, how softly that sentence ends. He would almost say he is losing himself to everything, but knows that is not quite accurate. It’s the opposite. Perhaps this is the first time he can say, when sprawled over bedsheets and waiting for another to prepare him, that he has never felt more alive, like himself.

It should terrify him. But it doesn’t. It truly doesn’t do anything but excite him, causing him to want more, want _Sylvain_ and everything he can give to him.

Give him something no one else has.

“ _Fuck!”_ he cries out as the finger slips inside. So little, but so much all at once; he swears this alone is enough for him to become wild with pleasure. Lips find his own as Sylvain builds up the pace of his finger. A tongue is in his mouth, fingers trail over his chest from Sylvain’s spare hand. It feels better than anything ever has.

It’s enough for him to already feel an orgasm slip closer, Sylvain’s teasing, his spanking, enough to have made Felix almost painfully hard. He whines softly when Sylvain parts from his lips. It crosses into a panted moan when a second finger enters him.

“N-need … Need …”

“Hm? What do you need, kitten?”

“Feel c-close, already.” His voice is almost quiet. It’s becoming more difficult for him to find concrete, full answers to give. “Ple— _a-ah!”_

Sylvain’s hand has trailed up his erection. A single open eye takes in that man’s smile. “Already, baby?”

“Mm, I-I …” Felix’s words trail off with a whimper. Sylvain’s fingers have increased their pace, sending Felix’s head higher still. “Sir, please,” he manages to whisper between his moans.

“You know not to release yourself unless I say, don’t you? Which is why you’re begging for it.” Felix’s entire body wriggles when Sylvain increases the pace of both hands. Thrusting those fingers inside of him, the hand pumping his erection—Felix’s tears return. Or rather, a single one, as delicate as a crystal, slipping from one eye.

“I … I-I do.” Felix’s head falls on its side, fingers grasping at the ropes binding him. He tries and fails to ground himself. “P-please, sir, please. Let me come.”

There’s a momentary silence. Sylvain’s touch continues. Brown eyes flickering over Felix—calculating, observing. Felix swears his already racing heart is pumping louder and louder in anticipation.

“Since you’ve been so good for me, I’ll let you.” Sylvain increases the pace on Felix’s dick, earning a loud cry. “Goddess, you’re so beautiful—those sounds you make are like nothing else.”

“P-please,” Felix begs, despite how he has already done so. His mind is on nothing but his pleasure and the desire to obey. “Please.”

Sylvain leans down, pressing a kiss to Felix’s cheek. “Go on, kitten.”

Felix finds his release almost immediately after the command. Cries, moans, and another tear falling from his eye; the struggles in his body relax, replaced with the most subtle squirms. He’s not yet through. Even as a peculiar sense of relaxation washes over him, contentment and a strange, drunk-like feeling, all he wants is for Sylvain to grant him more.

“I want …” he murmurs with the softest whine as Sylvain’s fingers leave him. “Not enough, it’s not—”

“Shh. We’re not done yet, so long as you want more.” Felix’s eyes open, catching the head of red hair when Sylvain leans down to press a kiss to the side of Felix’s neck. “You’re in a vulnerable state right now, Felix, so I want you to be honest about if you’re fine to continue.”

A vulnerable …? Oh. This feeling, as though he’s almost taking a drug—that must be subspace. Goddess. He really does have that in him, after all. And it feels wonderful.

In fact, he doubts his mind is on nothing but this current moment, and he realises he has never managed that to this extent.

“I am,” he says. Sylvain’s head lifts to press another kiss to Felix’s head instead, Felix taking the time to rest his forehead against Sylvain’s shoulder. “Please.”

“If you’re certain, then I’m happy to oblige.” The amount of affection in Sylvain’s eyes is almost alarming. “I would adore making you that little more helpless, kitten.”

Felix’s lips purse, tugging at ropes binding his arms. “ _Fuck,_ please—”

He’s fully aware that his sentences are less structured by now, but all it does is cause Sylvain to smile. He reaches over to the night-stand, pulling out the drawer. He returns with the blindfold they have used in the past.

Felix lifts his head automatically to assist with Sylvain pulling it over his eyes. As it did previously, his breath hitches when his world is cloaked in darkness—but he welcomes it. Nerves aside, all he wants is helplessness, for that lack of sight to help him feel even more.

It already begins to do so when hands run down either side of Felix’s waist.

“I want you back with your ass raised,” says Sylvain. His voice appears louder, now Felix’s sight istaken away. “I want to see those marks again."

Felix cannot help it; those words induce a moan. “ _Please,_ sir.”

“So you haven’t lost your manners.” Felix is turned around back onto his stomach. He releases a soft whimper over a light slap against his rear. Legs tremble as he attempts to raise it despite the difficulty his ropes cause, Sylvain’s hands taking his hips and bringing him up the rest of the way. “Goddess, that’s it. I can’t tell what’s better—seeing you face down, ass up, or with a cock in that pretty mouth.”

Felix’s bite on his lip stifles a moan. Never, _never_ has dirty talk made him so desperate. “Please.”

“I can’t get over how much of a good boy you are, baby.” Felix hears the lid of the lube pop off again. “I’m going to grant you more pleasure than you’ve ever felt before.”

He already has. His last orgasm had caused his entire body to tremble. But he knows how much more Sylvain can give him, that even today, they still won’t explore everything.

The head of Sylvain’s dick slides between his ass cheeks. He jumps—the blindfold hasn’t allowed him to be prepared. He’s soon squirming, however, trying to bring himself closer to Sylvain despite how that will do little for him.

“Oh Goddess, _please,”_ Felix breathes out. “Sir, please-”

Sylvain presses a kiss to Felix’s shoulder. “I can't take my time, when you beg without me telling you to.”

He stays true to his word as he slips himself inside Felix. A cry he almost doesn’t recognise escapes his lips. It’s loud, desperate, a higher pitch than his normal voice. The moans which follow are similar.

It almost humiliates him. But only almost. He’s too caught up in how good it feels for Sylvain to build up a pace inside him, almost perplexed by how _amazing_ it is to have his mind and soul be in the moment, that he spares no more thought to any shame. Not even now the two have dived deeper than ever.

“You feel wonderful, baby,” Sylvain groans. “I adore it. More than anything in this world. And seeing you this helpless, when it took you so long to get to this stage …”

“I-it’s only thanks to you,” Felix manages to gasp out in between his moans. Though he cannot see Sylvain’s smile, he can sense it.

“No. You can thank yourself as well.” A hand remains on Felix’s hip. The other wanders. Travelling over the curve of his waist, to his stomach, his chest; a whimper escapes him from the fingertips pressing down on a nipple. “I’m grateful that you have let yourself become this vulnerable for me, Felix.”

“It’s st-still only becaue …”

His current state prevents him from saying the rest of the words in his mind, far too high into the clouds to say more, but he imagines them, words which express how much Sylvain is an exception to everyone else.

Sylvain still seems to understand, as he does everything. He smiles against the skin against Felix’s spine before that mouth trails a line of kisses across its curve. His thrusts into Felix increase, inserting more of his length, Felix moaning as though he is singing a prayer. Everything, _everything,_ has led to this moment.

“I don’t … don’t …” Felix inhales deeply. Even this slight sound appears heightened by how his vision is obscured. “D-don’t think I— _ah_ —c-can last long.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to. Not with how much we’ve already done, and how this is your first time having a full session.” Another kiss, this time deep, on Felix’s shoulder. “You’ve already done so well. Please don’t worry. Don’t think about _anything,_ but how this feels.”

Felix nods. He allows himself to breathe as best as he can through the pleasure. It skyrockets in what he feels is an instant—moaning out Sylvain’s name against the bed, louder and louder, as he thrusts straight against his sweet spot.

“Please, p-please,” he begs, not truly knowing what he is even begging for. Perhaps for this to never end.

“You’re doing so well kitten, so fucking well.” Sylvain lets out a groan, increasing the intensity of his thrusts that little more, Felix’s head sent higher still.

How does he keep reaching further into ecstasy every time? Soon, it’s enough for his body to be closer, closer. A necessity from nowhere, but seemingly expected at once.

A whispered plea of, “P-please, can’t … C-can’t hold it back.”

Lips find his cheek. “No need to, sweetheart. Come for me.”

The orgasm arrives instantly, before Sylvain’s hand has even reached him. He cries out against the bed, arms tugging at the ropes. He soon slumps. Sylvain’s thrusts inside him and the hands on his hips keep him upright. A touch so reassuring, so full of what Felix would dare say is adoration _._

“I’m close myself, Fe. Can’t help it, when you’re like this.” Felix feels the other lean over him. Strands of hair tickle him. “So, so beautiful. I— _fuck,_ I-I couldn’t be more grateful.”

Felix smiles. Genuinely, despite his fatigue. Full of brightness, despite how calm he is. It’s possible that slipping into this headspace has granted him more happiness than anything else has, for a time he cannot tell.

The rest is a blur. Sylvain reaches his own climax into the condom with a groan of Felix’s name. How he slows to a stop and pulls out. Felix falls on his side, with arms wrapping around him to give him a temporary hug, a kiss. There are murmured words as well. Beautiful, soft words which hold so much power within.

“I’m proud of you, Felix. You did so well.”

He’s not certain when he started crying. All he knows is that it’s the good kind. His now freed eyes are blurred with those tears, which fall as he blinks to adjust to the lamp’s light. Lips brush against his cheek as Sylvain begins to unfasten the ropes binding his arms.

“How do you feel?” Sylvain asks. “Please tell me if there’s anything you need to bring to my attention.”

Even within his almost dazed state, Felix knows what he is referring to; the potential negative aspects that can come after. Subdrop, he remembers. Although even if he is exhausted, overwhelmed, he’s also content as well. Satisfied. Filled with a sense that he belongs, that he is safe here, that nothing can ever touch him again.

Nothing, except from those careful fingers untying the ropes.

“I’m fine,” he says. “Just … a little beat.”

“Yeah, I’d expect that.” Sylvain’s voice is soft enough that it could send Felix to sleep, he’s quite certain. “Did you enjoy yourself?”

“Absolutely. I’m still …” Felix pauses, opening his eyes again. “Is this really subspace?”

“It seems like it, yes. It can happen when someone feels and enjoys as much as you have.”

“Mm. Makes sense.”

“Here, stretch them.” Sylvain assists Felix in moving his arms once they are freed. Stroking down them, easing with the blood flow and, Felix imagines, tracing over the marks left behind. “No pain, no?”

“No. Well, except … you know.”

Sylvain chuckles. “I’ll be right there with that. Here, let me help you to drink as I get the lotion.”

Felix is brought up a little by Sylvain, enough so he can safely drink some water without choking. As he places the glass down, Sylvain returns with the lotion. Felix traces his fingertips over the rope marks on his arms as Sylvain pops the lid off. They’re … captivating, in a way. The evidence left behind from Sylvain’s actions.

“Oh.” Felix jumps slightly as he feels the lotion come into contact with his skin. He’s quick to relax as the substance cools the sting. “That feels good.”

“Nice, isn’t it?” Sylvain spreads his hands out across Felix’s backside. Slow, steady, enough to make Felix hum in satisfaction. “You did wonderfully, Felix. I know how much strength that took from you. And taking care of you like this after … I can’t help but adore it.”

Felix cannot suppress a smile. “Suppose it’s nice,” he says, “letting myself unwind for once.”

“Good. Because I want you to do nothing but enjoy yourself when you’re with me.” Sylvain’s thumbs trace circles into the skin, reducing the burn little by little, though it’s unsurprisingly far from enough to take away the pain. “As I mentioned when we were preparing this scene, you’ll probably be feeling this tomorrow a bit.”

“Ah, well. Small price to pay.” And he means it—feeling some pain in his ass tomorrow seems like a worthy compromise, for what he is experiencing now.

Sylvain soon guides Felix onto his stomach. Those moisturised hands glide up Felix’s spine, spreading out at his shoulders and burying into his muscles. Felix’s eyes close with a smile. Even now his mind is coming back down slightly—but far from completely—he can still appreciate every touch.

“Apparently, you’re also good at massages,” he says. “Is that another hobby?”

Never has Sylvain’s laughter made him feel this warm. “In a sense, maybe? I’ve done this a lot during aftercare.”

“Mm. I can tell.” Felix settles the side of his head against his arms, his eyes still closed. A content sigh escapes his lips when Sylvain reaches his neck; it’s understandable that it has grown tense, what with how nervous he has been, but he still appreciates Sylvain helping to massage it away.

“Was there anything you didn’t like?” Sylvain asks as he does this. “Or anything in general I should bear in mind?”

Felix shakes his head. “Not that I can think of. I don’t think we did anything today that was especially intense or anything. It was kind of everything we’ve done already, just combined together.” His eyes open, peering back at Sylvain; at this angle, the most he can make out is an unfocused flash of red, although that is more than enough for him. “If anything, I just … I don’t want it to stop. I’ve finally found where I belong, when I’m with you.”

“I’m glad, Felix.” Sylvain’s voice has grown softer. “I really am.”

“Even though it did take me a long time.”

“But you got there, and that’s what matters. And I’ve been more than happy to help bring you to this stage.” Sylvain pauses for a moment, before he says, “I do mean it. That nothing has ever felt quite like this.”

“It’s funny, because I’m the same.” Felix lets out another sigh; Sylvain’s fingers have carefully eased out knots in his left shoulder. “Maybe it’s because I might as well be high right now. But I almost want to say something I shouldn’t say.”

“And that is …?”

“I … I want to be with you.” Felix’s voice is a whisper. It might not be completely from nerves, with how relaxed he is. He might simply be swept away by emotion. There’s a moment of silence, although Sylvain continues to work his hands into Felix’s shoulders.

“That makes me happy, Felix.”

“It’s not something that … you know, scares you off?” As though Felix is the oddball for suggesting this, despite all they’ve done together.

“Goddess, no. I’ve only been casual with people for a long time. But it’s different with you.”

Sylvain fetches a blanket that rests on top of the duvet. He guides Felix to sit up for a moment, allowing him to wrap the blanket around Felix’s body, before the two of them lay down together. Felix smiles over the fingers which brush hair away from his face. So soft, gentle, as though tending to glass.

“I’m not used to being different for someone,” says Felix, trying to keep his eyes open. His voice is barely above a murmur. “Not romantically, at least. And I’m still struggling a bit to understand what _does_ make me different, in your eyes.”

“Why do you think I wouldn’t see you that way?”

“I … I don’t know. Maybe I’m too used to being taken advantage of, or maybe I’m simply insecure.” Felix leans into the hand on his cheek, eyes finally closing fully. “Your life is just—there is so much to it, so much you have achieved for yourself. And I struggle, sometimes, wondering what place I have in it.”

“A special place, I can say for one thing,” says Sylvain. “But to be more specific … Despite how you might view yourself, you’re incredibly caring and selfless. You’re a strong person, in more ways than one, and you’re quite simply the cutest thing to exist.”

Felix holds back a snort, opening his eyes as he gives Sylvain a soft shove. “Shut up. This wasn’t an invitation to flirt.”

“Hey, I’m not trying to. I mean it. I know you talk about everything _I’ve_ done for _you,_ but I don’t think you know how much you’ve done for me, in return.” Sylvain’s arms loop around Felix, bringing him closer. Felix remains still despite his contentment, distracted by surprising words. “As I’ve said to you, all of this keeps me together, and being able to guide you along and keep you safe … It’s never made me feel so happy, to be doing what I do. It’s made me feel like I’m a good person after all.”

“You are. Definitely.”

“As are you. And you really do make me happy, Felix. I mean it when I say that.”

Felix swallows, resting the side of his head against Sylvain, arms finding their way around his body. He can’t quite say he fully understands that, yet. But perhaps it’s fine, so long as he doesn’t plan to push Sylvain away. He knows he couldn’t even consider it. “So, does that …” Felix clears his throat, glad his face is hidden. “Does that mean we’re together, now?”

“I’d like us to be, but I also want us to confirm that when you’re in a less vulnerable state.” Sylvain presses a kiss to the top of Felix’s head, chuckling gently. “And perhaps we should get you in the bath before you fall asleep.”

“Mm. In a moment. I just …” Felix buries himself closer to Sylvain, shivering subtly at the fingers tracing circles on his back. “I could happily stay here forever.”

“Yeah. Me too, Fe.”

Silence finds them, although it’s the most welcoming silence Felix has ever been in. A world full of love, of safety, where silence equals contentment rather than misery. Even his tears, which still well in his eyes, are that of joy instead.

And it’s not all because of what Sylvain has given him. He understands, can even partially agree, to the words Sylvain has said. This is also down to Felix. He would have never come this far if he hadn’t pushed himself, and chose to chase his own happiness.

He’ll keep on doing so, because his life really is worth living.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you as always for reading! I'd love to hear your thoughts, as I'm mildly nervous about putting this one out.
> 
> The next chapter is much shorter being as it's an epilogue to tie up what happens next, but I do hope you're looking forward to it. Thank you for sticking around for so long!


	13. Epilogue - New Beginnings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The future seems brighter, little by little.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is, the final chapter! It definitely feels sad getting this posted, especially as it's a shorter one to wrap things up, but I do hope you enjoy it.
> 
> Additional warnings for this chapter: discussions around suicide.

“So you have not only mourned, but have also blamed yourself.”

Felix hums. He holds a mug of tea between his hands, trying to feel relaxed by the warmth against his skin, the scent mingling in the steam rising from it. The tea almost gives a sense of homeliness.

He wouldn’t call this room home. Not at all. But it allows him to realise the word ‘home’ can be metaphorical, that he can find his own home in not a single location, but rather in a multitude of places and people.

Even in himself, if he can ever accept himself enough for that.

“Whenever someone commits suicide, it is common for their loved ones to question themselves and their actions,” says Seteth. “In fact, I would be surprised if there was a case where this didn’t happen. Losing a loved one to suicide is a difficult thing to understand. Sometimes, it is impossible to do so. And when one lacks this understanding, they may turn to themselves if they cannot find the reason.”

“I didn’t see any other cause for it,” says Felix. “I mean, I stopped talking to him after he lost his eldest son.”

“Yes. But as I am sure Sylvain said when you told him this, suicide is complex. There had likely been a magnitude of reasons—and your past struggles are understandable.” Seteth rests his hands on the knee crossed over another, leaning forward slightly. “Your father’s methods of coping with your brother’s death did not align with your beliefs. He believed in chivalrous deaths. You, on the other hand, do not. And whilst we must learn that no one will share identical beliefs to our own, it is understandable for this conflict to have distanced you from him during such a difficult time.”

“Yeah. Probably.” Felix stares down at his hands, fidgeting with his nails. “It’s hard. I’m trying to not blame myself. It’s just … yeah. I’m sure you have heard similar before.”

“Indeed I have. You are not the only person to have gone through this. But that does not demean your own struggles with it in any way, and you are most certainly welcome to speak about it, should it help you.”

This is what Felix finds comforting with Seteth. Though the man will encourage Felix if it is necessary and an answer must be given for his well-being, he doesn’t apply pressure. Felix is not left trapped with no other option, instincts to flee haywire. He’s given patience and time to process any thoughts he may wish to say.

And usually, this patience and gentleness is what encourages Felix to talk at all. Having that freedom to make his own choices.

“I think I’m caught up on the what ifs, and still trying to move on from them,” says Felix. “What if I had spoken to him more? What if I did this, and that, better? I know it’s not productive or helpful in any way. It’s just taking time to move on from.”

“It will most certainly take time. I’m not telling you to recover in an instant. I simply advise you to catch yourself in those moments, and remember that there is little use in dwelling on such things. The reality is that we do not know. Something might have been different, although simultaneously, the outcome could have been identical. This is why we should not dwell on matters we cannot change.”

Felix nods his head. He finally has the encouragement to lift his head and meet Seteth’s eyes. They’re always so … reassuring. Eyes which understand and observe, but never pry.

“I think I sometimes remember that there are good what ifs, as well,” says Felix. “Every choice I’ve made has set me down a certain path. I’d have never met some important people in my life, had it not been for a choice that led me there. I shouldn’t dwell on that too much, either, or question if I deserve it. I suppose you sometimes have to accept something for what it is.”

“Yes. Of course, with these positive aspects, you should embrace the joy they give you and be grateful they have occurred. But you should never doubt why it has happened.” Seteth chuckles. “During my many years of existence, I have been able to see that there are countless roads we can take. We should focus on living in the moment, rather than dwell on the beginning of the road, or fret over what will happen at the end of it.”

Felix hums, and soon chuckles as well. “Did you really just say, ‘many years of existence’? You cannot be above your early forties.”

“Quite. Still, that is many years.” Seteth takes a moment to take a sip of his own tea, before he adds, “I would like to return to what you mentioned when you first came in here earlier, about how you and Sylvain are now an item.”

“Oh?” Felix remembers to try and not grow defensive. Seteth isn’t here to hurt him, nor are those closest to him.

“I would like to ensure that you are not putting your full happiness in those hands. Of course, you are more than allowed to have his company help you. Love is important to us, and it is fine to find purpose through it. But I want you to grow for yourself as well. Find joy in what _you_ can give yourself, not just another.”

Felix nods. “Yes, of course. Meeting him and everything he has taught me in this time … It’s helped a lot, I won’t deny it. But he’s not the only person I care about, and there are things I’m trying to do for myself, too. I want to be a bringer of my own happiness. And, well,” his hand rubs at the back of his neck, “I wouldn’t say I’m okay yet. And therapy is still something I should keep going to.”

“Which I am more than happy to provide.” When Seteth says this, Felix can tell he truly means it; it is enough to make Felix smile.

“Thank you.”

“Do you believe that in the future, you _will_ be okay?”

A pause. “It’s difficult to be sure. But I hope so.”

“We’ll keep working together. Until you can say you will be, and even beyond then. Either way, I think you should be proud of your progress thus far.”

There are still times Felix cannot believe those words. Frequent times, even. To him, he’s still nowhere near as put together as he believes he should be.

But for now, he can agree. Because even if it’s difficult to accept, deep down, he knows it’s true. Little by little, he improves. The more time goes on, the more he learns how to navigate the world and his emotions, he finds himself growing.

Sitting in this room at all, sharing a smile with a man who has been a complete surprise to him, has been a good place to start.

  
  


* * *

  
  


It’s amusing to see Sylvain this way. A quiet groan escapes his lips, forehead resting against the steering wheel. Then again, Felix is similar. He’s expressing his nerves in a more subtle way; the tapping of his shoe against the floor of Sylvain’s car, fingers picking at the sleeve of his bomber jacket.

“We’ve both known them for ages,” says Sylvain. “Yet look at us! What’s so intimidating about meeting a child?”

“Perhaps because you’re worried over seeming like a total loser?”

“Excuse me? A loser, when I’m wearing leather jacket number no.8, arguably my best one?” Sylvain straightens up, holding out the jacket either side of him. He blinks. “Oh Goddess. _Will_ I seem like a loser? I’m in my thirties.”

“So is Mercedes.”

“Yes, but she’s his _mother._ I’m going to seem old.” Sylvain gives Felix a gentle push, grinning. “Maybe you’d be the loser. You and your collection of replica swords.”

Felix rolls his eyes in return. “Shut up. Let’s get going.”

Sylvain grins over the obvious detour to this conversation, although in reality, they _definitely_ should be heading inside and stop dawdling. An eight-year-old child is not an intimidating person to meet. Although perhaps their fears are understandable, when his two mothers have done such a spectacular job these last several weeks. Neither Sylvain nor Felix want to interrupt that progress in any way.

As the pair walk up to the house, Sylvain gives Felix’s hand a squeeze. “It’ll be fine,” he says, earning a nod of agreement from Felix. He inhales deeply, remembering where he is. By Sylvain’s side, for one thing. And stood on the doorstep belonging to his best friends.

The front door opens almost immediately after ringing the doorbell. Annette’s ginger head pops around the doorway, a grin stretching out on her face.

“Hey, guys! You made it!” Annette brings Felix into a surprisingly bone-crushing hug and, despite Sylvain keeping to one side, soon drags him into one as well. “Come on in.”

Though nervousness still lingers, her cheerful attitude, as always, helps to fight any negative emotions away. Sylvain and Felix follow her through the hallway and towards the dining room. The scent of tikka masala drifts through the air.

“Ah, hello!” Mercedes greets, turning from the stove she is cooking a pan on. “Dinner will be ready in a couple of minutes. Cyril, this is Sylvain and Felix.”

A short, dark-skinned child turns around. Fondness stirs in Felix’s chest when he realises that the boy has been helping his mothers by setting the table. “Oh, hey.”

“Cyril can be a little awkward around others at first, but he’ll warm right up to you,” says Annette. “Nothing beats bonding over a good meal!”

It’s not Felix alone who notices how these words perk Cyril up straight away; Sylvain smiles and asks, “You definitely like curry, don’t you?”

Cyril hums. “I’ve had a lot of spicy food before. But mommy makes curries mild so mama doesn’t cry.”

“I do _not_ cry over spicy food _.”_ Annette pouts. “I just get a little tearful over it, that’s all! It’s definitely not crying.”

“We completely believe you,” says Felix, chuckling over Annette sticking her tongue out at him. She soon walks over to the kitchen area, leaning in to give her wife a kiss on the cheek.

“Sit yourselves down,” says Mercedes, her head leaning against Annette’s. “We will bring the food over.”

Felix has planned on helping to set the table, but in the blink of an eye, Cyril has already finished doing so. The couple take a pair of seats opposite him instead.

“Cool jacket!” says Cyril, eyes on Sylvain.

“Isn’t it, though?” Sylvain reaches his arm over the table for Cyril to feel the material, shooting Felix an _I told you so_ expression, which causes him to roll his eyes fondly. In reality, however, even when Sylvain is wearing what he calls a ‘toned down’ outfit, he is still cool enough for kids to grow amazed over him. Felix supposes that the punk aesthetic will never leave him.

“Here you go!” Mercedes exclaims. She and Annette walk over to the table with filled plates in their hands. Felix inhales deeply the moment his own plate is in front of him; the gorgeous smell of curry hits him immediately. There’s a chorus of gratitude in response.

“Let us know if you want more, Cyril,” says Annette when the boy picks up his knife and fork in wonder. “We have some leftovers.”

For a moment, Cyril seems to be uncertain on how to respond, before he nods and begins to dig straight into his food. A pang hits Felix’s chest—is it overthinking, to wonder if Cyril is hesitant because he’s not used to eating enough food? Regardless, even if this had been the case, it most certainly isn’t now. Mercedes and Annette would climb to the ends of the earth before their child had to go hungry. 

“I made dessert, too,” says Annette. “I’m starting to get better and better at baking—which, you know, I should when I’m in a bakery.”

“How has the manager position gone?” asks Sylvain. “With Byleth deciding to move on from the job, I mean.”

“Great! Bossing people around is weirdly fun.”

“Lysithea seems jealous,” says Felix. “I can only imagine what it’d be like to have _her_ as a manager. Oh—this reminds me, I should check in on Byleth myself. It’s already been a while since they gave birth.”

“How lovely,” says Mercedes. “It seems as though families are growing everywhere at the moment.”

Her eyes land on her son, who has been silently eating. He swallows and looks up, giving a rather sheepish smile before his gaze flickers to Sylvain and Felix. “Do you have kids?”

Sylvain and Felix alike almost choke on their food. “No,” says the former. “We’ve not really been together long enough to consider that.”

“Oh. How long have you been together?”

“Four months, now,” says Felix. He smiles when Sylvain’s fingers brush over his arm. “But it feels like it’s been much longer than that.”

Of course, Felix can spare the details. Such information should be kept away from that child’s ears … well, forever.

But he can dwell on what has brought him here, appreciate every moment. How much he has trusted Sylvain’s hands, his guidance, his carefulness. The development every time they saw each other, and still have now, each time they connect physically and emotionally. Neither being a stranger to lying with another, but still hit by emotions which were previously foreign. 

Lust riddled in unbelievable trust. Felix, looking back, can see how it would only lead to a single thing: love instead. 

And those developing emotions, allowing his soul to be laid bare in front of Sylvain, someone so different to everyone else, truly makes it feel as though he has been with Sylvain longer than he has. Emotionally, this is definitely the case. All they did was confirm their hearts and put an official label on what they have.

“Will ya, though?” asks Cyril. “I mean … You both look so _cool._ I bet kids would love to have you as their dads!”

“Both?” Felix says. He expected these words to Sylvain, but not him so much.

“I love your shoes,” says Cyril; he’s referring to the high-top Converses, decorated with a white and blue check pattern. “And your hair is cool, how it all goes different ways like that.”

“Oh. I see.” A smile grows on Felix’s face, leaning it into his palm as his gaze fixes on Sylvain. “See, Sylvain? I’m cool as well. It’s not just you.”

“Even if I tell him you’re obsessed with swords?”

Cyril perks up further. “Swords are cool!”

“Never mind.”

“But you’re _definitely_ cool too, Sylvain,” says Cyril. He chomps down the remainder of his rice before asking, “Don’t you own a nightclub?”

“That’s right!” Sylvain is noticeably gloating in the appreciation for his coolness, which has Felix, the hypocrite he is, holding back a snort as he brings his attention back to his plate. “It’s real big, too.”

“That’s awesome … I’d love to go there.”

“I think not!” Mercedes exclaims quickly. “You are much too young, Cyril.”

“Not sure it’s exactly the appropriate kind, too,” says Felix, catching Sylvain’s eye with an amused smile. 

“Because of alcohol, right? Ah, well … I’m eighteen in ten years.”

“Oh, Goddess,” says Sylvain, his eyes growing wide. “And I’ll be in my forties.”

“Don’t have a midlife crisis at their dinner table,” says Felix, letting out a laugh. “Speaking of, thank you for the food, Mercedes. It was delicious.”

“My pleasure!” 

Her wide smile, full of warmth and joy, is perhaps an accurate representation of how everyone at this table currently feels themselves. A sense of contentment and all their worlds coming together.

The rest of the time Sylvain and Felix spend in the family’s home rushes on by. Cyril is an utter delight, the perfect addition to Mercedes and Annette’s lives. Together, the three play board games, eating post dinner dessert and snacks until Mercedes pipes up that they will have stomach aches if they’re not careful.

The moment Sylvain and Felix have to leave arrives much too quickly, but there are plenty of other days to spend together. That’s one thing which has changed even further as of late. Time passing by, but not being wasted. Felix noticed this subtle difference months ago; it’s only becoming more apparent as time passes further. How he has grown to live as opposed to survive.

  
  


* * *

  
  


Sometimes, Felix questions how it has already been almost two years since his father died. With everything that has happened since then, some days, it seems as though it happened much longer ago. Considering Felix still mourns his brother over half a decade later, he knows that it will be some time before this pain subsides. Perhaps it will never do so completely.

But he is living more and more each day. He’s learned that he cannot truly live by focusing on the dead. To continuously compare himself to those beneath the earth, to live whilst only thinking of what would please them, disappoint them—if he stayed this way, it would have only destroyed him.

Even so, he likes to imagine they’d be proud. His father might be appalled over the method he used to gain a romantic partner, but the end results speak for themselves, as the two cuddle together on Sylvain’s sofa, Felix leaning back against the man behind him.

“Soon enough, our legs are going to be dead,” says Felix.

“Oh, definitely. But I don’t ever want to move.” Sylvain’s nose nuzzles into the top of Felix’s hair. “It smells nice. Like coconuts.”

“That’s because it’s coconut conditioner, genius.”

“Sheesh. No compliments for you, apparently.” Sylvain plants a kiss on top of his head, implying that he is joking. “Felix?”

“Mm?”

“Can I go with you when you visit your father’s grave tomorrow?”

“I thought that was a given already.” Felix leans back against Sylvain, hand held over one of the other’s arm. “I want you there. You help me feel grounded.”

“Yeah?”

“Mm. It’s a given.” A pause. There’s so much Felix is bursting to say, to express, about the life he has slowly but surely been growing with Sylvain, although perhaps it can be summarised enough by three quiet words: “I love you.”

There’s a moment of silence as Sylvain processes what Felix has said. It’s understandable, when this is the first time Felix has said it first. But a smile soon replaces eyes widened in surprise, and Sylvain says, “I love you too, sweetheart. And it still feels amazing, that I can say that and actually mean it.”

Felix hums in agreement, his head resting back against Sylvain’s shoulder. He might not be someone who has told a lot of people he loves them, not like Sylvain has, but he can relate in how he had spent a long time not being able to say those words at all, and have someone who is worthy of hearing them in a romantic context.

But Sylvain is different. He has been from the start. 

“I think I’d like us to progress more, soon,” he says. Fingers trace over the hairs at the top of his head.

“With our lifestyle, you mean?”

“Yeah. Like with how the sex was, the thought is a bit nerve-wracking in some aspects. But you’ve helped me to learn what I need.” Felix turns around, an index finger tracing over Sylvain’s chest. “Just … one step at a time, right? Like we’ve always done?”

“Exactly that. There’s never any rush at all.” Sylvain’s smile grows, warmer than the sun, and Felix is reminded of why exactly he loves him. “Seeing you grow happier with yourself is what’s most important.”

Those words are so genuine, Felix cannot find his own. His silence speaks his emotions, however. His thumbs trail over Sylvain’s cheeks. He absorbs the contentment that smile gives him, and finds a place of security in warm-brown eyes. When he looks into them, he remembers how they have always been this gentle. Through every moment of guidance, with every word given.

They simply also fill with love, now. A love Felix isn’t sure that he deserves, but he’s working on that as well. He won’t ever stop growing.

And he would be content with seeing that face for as long as time will allow. Perhaps, after all he has endured, this is the least he deserves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for sticking with this story until the end! I had truly been passionate to write this story, and sharing it all with you has been wonderful. I never realised that I would get such warm-hearted feedback, nor that I would be able to connect with some of you through it.
> 
> It's definitely sad to see it end. Part of me is considering writing a sequel in the future, or oneshots set in the same universe, so it might not be fully over yet. We'll have to see! Away from this story too, I'll soon be posting my next longer Sylvix fic, which is a high seas story for the AU Big Bang. My next passion project too, a fic centred around Felix's trauma and dealing with developing chronic illnesses, will soon be started as well. I hope to see you there too!
> 
> For now, thank you again for reading and enjoying this story, it has truly meant the world.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! If you would like to see my art and previews of fanfics, feel free to find me on Twitter @nikobynight.


End file.
